Undercover
by Bohoburns
Summary: A traumatized gossip columnist goes undercover to get the scoop on Duel Monsters celebrities. Little does she know how deep the web of deception takes her, resulting in her getting close to Seto Kaiba. She's no angel. She's an absolutely horrible person. But then, so is he. Seto Kaiba x OC. Rated M for scenes of torture, language, suggestive themes, and sensuality.
1. The Prologue

"You're a liar."

He towered over Yuriko, his hands at his sides in white knuckled fists as he bared his teeth at her. She never saw a person so angry. Blue eyes as deep and rich as the ocean had gone cold and electric. He hated her. She deserved the hate. It had been due to her for a long time; a debt that had not been paid back and kept accumulating interesting. The loan shark was back. And this time she owed flesh.

Standing in defeat, her small shoulders slumped downward in surrender. "I am. And I am sorry."

He turned away, the familiar sneer-that expression that she had seen disintegrate into the gentlest of smiles-had returned with a raw savagery and disgust. It was even more distrusting and disdainful than she remembered.

Warm tears were forming in her eyes. The eyes she had used to help deceive him. They itched from the colored contact lenses. He still had never seen her with her real irises. They were as blue as his. She wiped at the teardrops quickly, believing they would only make him hate her more.

"Why?" The question was a window of disorienting clarity in the enveloping darkness. It caught her off guard and made her hesitate to respond. There wasn't just one reason. So many contributions led them to where they were today.

Yet she couldn't recall one excuse worth justifying what she had done.

"They don't matter anymore." She felt a chill over her body and hugged herself. The pills were starting to take their effect. This was penance as well as escape. She was already feeling the heavy drowsiness and welcomed it happily. The memories would stop-the neverending guilt would be stopped.

They had taken a lot longer to kick in. The bedding of darkness was piling on top of her, heavy muffled blanket after heavy muffled blanket. "And it will only make you hate me more for it. And that's the last thing I want."

"You should have thought of that before you went and did this." His words were still like searing hot blades of steel, each word slicing into her and keeping her coherent. The world was melting away into steamy oblivion all around them. But he was still crystal clear clarity. He always was so freaking pristine.

"I never meant for it to go this far-" Her voice shook in fatigue.

Her judgment was starting to falter. He crossed his arms and turned from her. She couldn't help but smile softly. She always liked how he would fold his arms and look away, like a petulant child who begrudgingly had to accept his situation but would always remember the disgression.

The final wish she had in her life was to have her last moments seeing and remembering the moments she spent with him. Not the horrors of her captivity from... before she met him. He had showed her that she could care for another man. He had taught her so much.

She was swaying out of balance. It was hard to remain on her two feet. She leaned her body against the wall, not caring if the primed paneling she leaned against cost more than a month's rent to her. She wasn't going to leave a mark.

"My words are nothing anymore. But you were the greatest part of my life." Her eyelids were drooping. He never morphed or faded away. He simply vanished from view. Her lungs couldn't take in air anymore. Dizziness swirled within her brain in its passionate dance.

"What? Sora!" His call out to her echoed away in her ears as she felt herself go. Ironic, she thought. I truly am flying away like a bird. The last thing she remembered before complete darkness was the one conversation. From when they first met.

 _"The higher we soar the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly."_


	2. The Beginning

One Year Ago

"Adachi!" The burly voice and plumes of cigar smoke wafted into her little cubicle and she turned from her computer to see the stout balding head first. Mr. Marukai was a very wrinkly and animated gentleman. He had a fondness for navy blue suits and overpriced cigars, his thick fingers and extensively groomed mustache always standing out in Yuriko Adachi's vision.

"Sir," the young woman sat up straight before leaning forward in interest. His eyes sparked and his breathing was on the heavy side.

"Good work on the Ryuji Otogi interview!" Mr. Marukai held out a thumbs up, his eyes little slits of pride. "The release of this week's issue was the highest selling in the past five years!"

Yuri's eyes widened behind her large brown framed glasses in surprise. "That's great to hear, sir!"

"Keep up the good work," the man's throaty voice reflected. "If you keep it up, perhaps you'll be recommended for Fujimoto's position when he retires next year."

Eyes flashing and face flushing, Yuriko stood up and bowed her head in humbled excitement. "I would be honored, sir. I will do my best to not let you down."

Her supervisor turned and marched away, whistling a happy tune and going about his way from the cubicle farm. Yuriko sighed, slumping back in her chair. She had her hands pressed to her knees, looking down at the drab gray carpet while taking in the moment. That article had been the most stressful of interviews she ever had to conduct.

Ryuji Otogi had been a complete menace to say the least. She had been overcome with joy and relief when she sent her article in for editing. She hoped never to come across the manipulative pretty boy in the next two lifetimes.

"Pst!" The hiss came from the cube adjacent to hers. Two tanned hands, the reddish orange mop of harajuku bleached hair, and the bright green artifical contacts greeted her. The mischievous gleam distracted her from the post traumatic flashbacks of the Otogi chronicles. "Little Ms. Senior-Editor-In-The-Making!"

"I wish," Yuriko shrugged and readjusted her glasses. "That article almost killed me. If I want to stir the waters any more I'd have to top it. I don't know if I could handle another eccentric meeting with another Duel Monsters celebrity anytime soon. That dice freak had me play a dice roll truth or dare game." A shadow took over her face as she shivered at the memory. "The things I said and did..."

Kisa let out a giggle and gradually she rose higher above the partition. Yuriko assumed she was completely on her desk. "I'm surprised nothing happened between you two. Sounds like he was totally into you."

Yuriko scoffed and shrugged the idea away. "He was a little too into me. He just came off as a jerk. He hardly wanted to talk about the games or his company. Only about my personal romantic life. And other things."

"You seem to always forget, Yuri," Kisa gave her a sympathetic grimace. "We're a gossip magazine. Not really much for current events or business. I'm sure he was simply dishing out what he had to suffer through."

Yuriko begrudgingly nodded. "You're right." Pangs of disappointment struck her, but she knew she made her choice. She used to have high dreams of a more respectable journalist career. Yet when she had left university and the many internships she worked she found that none of the news stations, papers, or websites were hiring journalists. So she crawled in self pity and humility to her last resort: celebrity gossip. And thrived. Even though it wasn't something she openly boasted to with people she had an inner sense of pride at being where she was at her age.

She made her choices and planned to move forward.

She was now a respected member of the Sakura Star. For the most part she had maintained a sense of morality that not many people in her field could claim. But it seemed that every new challenge took an inch from her self respect. She feared the day she would run out.

"So what's your plan tonight? Excited for the weekend?"

Yuriko pondered, knowing her answer wouldn't please her friend. "Um... probably grocery shop. Have some wine and watch a movie."

Kisa stared at her blankly, unmoved by the answer. Her gaze was fixated with a blankness that was laced with extreme disappointment. "What about going out tonight with me? You said we'd go dancing!"

"I said I'd think about it," Yuriko warned and pleaded. She dug her thumbnail into the pads of her fingers out of a nervous habit. "I'm just not interested in going out. I'll have to dress up, stay up... and it's expensive..."

"And also deal with guys," Kisa finished for her with a nod and a refreshed expression of confusion and pity. "You're going to have to one day get out there. You don't want to be an old maid."

"Being an old maid doesn't sound that bad. I bet I'd have a lot more 'me time'."

Biting her lower lip, Kisa pressed on. "Would you like me to swing by? I'll bring my deck. We could play Duel Monsters, if you want."

Yuriko shrugged. "Don't worry about me. Go out! Have fun!" Yuriko pulled her mouth into a wide smile, a little more forced than she liked. Her bared white teeth felt like a chesire cat's appeasement than any real warm expression. "Seriously. I have to clean the house and work on a few side articles, too. I'm planning on staying late, in fact."

Kisa tsked in disapproval but slowly sank behind the fabric wall that separated their work spaces. The walls of her self imposed isolation seemed to grow around her, enveloping her in her personal mighty castle of the sole occupants of her, herself, and good ol' Yuriko Adachi.

When evening arrived the buzz of the building floor had died to a peaceful silence. Only the sound of the air conditioning and the random pops of the bubbling water cooler nearby provided her with audible company.

Typing away on an article of an upcoming tournament and which of the highest ranking duelists would attend, Yuriko was at a state of calm she cherished.

No one else was around. The veil of perfectionist was ebbing away; falling apart like a sand castle's deterioration after the high tide arrived.

A crash broke through the peace like a rabid bull barreling through a china shop. Yuriko flinched and jumped to her feet, climbing on her desk to peak out above the cubicle farm. Most of the lights had been shut off, with only hers and the exit lights providing any warm illumination. It was absolutely still.

Before calling out to the noise Yuriko silently scrambled off the table with all the unfailing grace of a crippled goose and turned off her light. She crawled underneath her table and kept herself still.

 _No one else is supposed to be here._

The thought brought horrible recollections in her mind. Suddenly she felt like the dark was suffocating her. She wasn't completely alone. She was supposed to be completely alone. _"Looks like it's just you and me again, Yuri."_

She slammed the door on that memory, bolting the door and doing all she knew she had the power to do. She swiftly crawled from under the table and made it to the little exit of her domain. She peaked past to look down the little walkway. No one was around. She got to her feet and swiftly hunch sprinted to the cube across from her, crouching back underneath the respective desk.

Her whole body was visible trembling. She didn't know what to do. She forced herself to calmly breathe. A burning sensation in her side and upper legs drove her mind apart like a nail gun had been pressed to her skull.

She heard footsteps. Firm, short, and precise. Too short to be _him_. It sounded like heels on the thin cheap carpet. A new theory crossed her mind, and she felt confident it was a safe assumption she was in no danger.

"Xuan?"

"Adachi?" A surprised woman's soft voice rang out. Relief was a fresh and welcoming breeze to Yuriko's mental state.

"Oh, thank God. I thought you were an intruder." Yuriko pushed herself to her feet and brushed off the imaginary lint off from her skirt. She stepped out of the cubicle she hid in and came face to face with her rival, Wei Xuan.

Smooth creamy skin with little butterfly curved lips and round dark eyes on a dainty Chinese face, Wei was very beautiful and very talented. She also had a tenancy to be as unlikable and rude as possible. "Taking a nap, I see," Xuan folded her arms and smirked. Scarlet red lips curved in arrogance. So terribly beautiful and beautifully terrible.

"Actually, I was just..." Yuriko's face warmed up as she failed to retort with the dry wit she wished she had. "...just scared." She figured there was not much to do but be open with her. They were both young women alone in a large building. She was sure she could understand.

"Maybe you should talk to somebody. That paranoia won't do you any good," Xuan shook her head with mocking sympathy. _I guess she's not much for understanding the fears of her fellow woman. Bitch._

"So what brings you to work tonight?" Yuriko went back to her cubicle and flicked on the light. The warm glow helped continue to chase away the imaginary demons and former recollections back into the shadows.

"Oh none of your concern. Just work." A pause. Xuan looked away. "I read your article. Must have taken a lot to get all that juicy info from Otogi." Dark eyes flashed to her accusingly. A gleam of cruel amusement shined in them. "How far did you go?"

"Excuse me?" Yuriko was taken off guard by the question. She turned to face her adversary head on.

"Oh, don't be coy. There's talk around the office." Xuan leaned against the partition with a smug smile tugged on her mouth. She revealed a sharp canine underneath, glimmering in the dim yellow light. It was like she was a hungry rabid tigress. "I heard you were pretty persuasive with Otogi."

It was just a game of chess. A match of wits and a battle of verbal reputation slander. Anger was quickly swallowing up Yuriko's self control and blocking her brain from smoothly coming up with a proper response. Finally she forced her mouth open. "Just because that's how you get your stories doesn't mean everyone follows that strategy."

Xuan scoffed in disdain, perfectly trimmed eyebrows raised in animosity. "Your people taught us the strategy."

A sting to the pride penetrated deep into Yuriko's chest. She pretended it didn't bother her. She thought the foreigner-hate had long ago died in modern Japan. But some people still held onto the xenophobia. "You don't know anything about my people. I'm done with this." She turned away and gathered her things. _Just ignore. Move on._

Thankfully Xuan didn't throw in any more biting words. Her heels clicked in muffled snippets in the carpet as she strode off.

No longer wanting to stay alone in the office, Yuriko took her canvas bag, putting papers and notes away. She would finish the articles at home with that bottle of wine and some music playing in the background. And more importantly, in a safe place.

Before she left the building she stopped by the restroom. She beelined to the sink and splashed water in her face, feeling the cool crisp freshness drip down her cheeks. Her nerves were calming down, her mind starting to get back to the pleasant numbed hum it naturally relapsed into.

As she dried her face with paper towels she studied her appearance carefully. Always being around her fellow Japanese, it was always unsettling to study herself. She always stood out in the crowd, her blue eyes bright and almost luminous as they stared back at her in the reflection. Despite how snow white skin was considered very attractive, she felt far from pretty. Her hair matched her skin in paleness. A golden tint would have made her look more western. But even she knew not where she was from. Her parents adopted her when she was a baby-before she remembered what her biological parents looked like. She had been abandoned at a random orphanage in Osaka, with no identity nor clue to her origin.

No matter the fact she was raised Japanese, she was a foreigner. Despite the popular standard for beauty, she was often stared at in the streets. Her adopted parents always called her a lovely white lily. But to the real world her fairness; the white as snow hair and brilliant blue eyes brought all sorts of attention to her.

At one point, she appreciated and enjoyed it. She had felt special and unique.

 _"You are the_ Maiden with Eyes of Blue _. You are the embodiment of the great dragon. And now you are mine alone."_

But not anymore. It made her feel like a target.

She pulled her pastel green blazer closer to her thin frame. She had lost some more weight, it seemed. She sighed with the mixed feelings of always enjoying being small but knowing it wasn't healthy to keep skipping lunches.

The ringing of her cell stole her attention from the mirror. Seeing who the caller was put a small smile on her face as she pressed to screen to answer.

"Ian, how's America?"

"It was really hot. LA is going through a heat wave right now. So guess who just landed in Domino?"

"Tom Cruise."

"You wish!" Ian, her closest friend, laughed happily. "Let's get some dinner. I'm starving."

"I was just thinking about getting some food. What do you want?" Yuriko remembered quickly that Kisa had wanted to go out that night. She would be very upset if she heard she went out without her. It was a shame that Ian and Kisa utterly despised each other. Otherwise she would have invited her along.

"Ramen."

"Okay. The shop closest by my house?"

"Have we ever gone anywhere else?" Ian responded rhetorically. "I'll meet you there in an hour."

Yuriko fast walked her way to the train station, the ink blue sky devoid of stars. The city was lit up with streetlamps and flashing screens that were reminiscent of Time Square. Domino city had changed a lot since Yuriko first arrived when she was ten. Her parents had decided to take on the big city and left peaceful Osaka for the busy streets of Domino.

The train was empty-most of the commuters were already at home and rush hour was long over. She enjoyed a solitary corner of the car by the window and watched the city lights whiz by like lasers. While the train sped down toward her home's district, she had her headphones in and was enjoying a piano concerto while feeling herself begin to drift off.

 _"You're mine."_

She jolted awake, her heart smacking in her rib cage like a wild bird recently locked in a cage. She had just about started a dream. _His_ voice had sounded so real. The heavy shadow shrouded her mood in its dark and dreary haze. She was starting to feel agitated. She felt tired; tired physically and mentally. She wished she'd stop hearing _him_. Thinking about _him_. Remembering _him_. Sometimes, the nightmares would be strong enough that she could feel and see _him_ , too.

Thankfully the train's speakers announced its next stop was hers. She rose to her feet, gripping the cold metal poles of the train car.

She felt the pull of her momentum as the stop arrived abruptly. She was feeling a little unnerved but inhaled sharply as she stepped out into the station. The ramen shop was a block away. She didn't want to have Ian worry.

She was thrilled that her friend was back from his abroad trip. He was the adventurous type; always bouncing jobs to save up for the next exotic vacation somewhere he'd never been before. She admired and envied his carefree demeanor. She also wondered how he was able to just drop everything and leave so easily without any financial worries. But he always seemed to not only manage, and thrive whenever he returned from a long term vacation. It was his first long term escapade in years, though. He made a point to be readily available to Yuriko ever since the imprisonment.

She was glad he was starting to relax with the stress of trying to be her caretaker. He needed to move on. So did she.

She opened the door to the little shop-it was really just a bar with twelve stools. It was just a sketchy dive and secluded, too. Little paper cranes hung from the ceiling with faint little white lights for a mesmerizing effect. The cook nodded in her direction, the elderly man a serious faced and silent sort of guy. The ramen he served was spot on.

Only one person was seated at the farthest end of the bar. She saw his legs, first, in ratty torn jeans. As she raised her eyes she recognized the faded orange shirt with the little Kuriboh printed on the chest. When she raised her eyes up his face her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. "Oh my God."


	3. The Scandal

Purple. Brilliant, colorful, vibrant purple. The yellow-blond locks of hair that used to cascade down to Ian Freud's shoulders were now cut short in a faux hawk. And gleamed the shade of an amethyst.

"Don't look at me with that face, Yuri!" He spoke in clean English, the slightest Germanic accent laced in his words. Ian was smiling bashfully at her as he downed another shot of sake. His cheeks were pink with a blush that rose as soon as he saw her horrified stare.

"Why did you dye your hair?" She, too, began speaking in English. They had both studied the language together to exclusively communicate. It was to protect from potential eavesdroppers. And it was their idiosyncratic ways. They needed to be exceptionally individual when they were in a crowd. The idea had originated from Ian one late study hall back in early high school.

"Hello to you too!" Ian stood up and threw his arms around Yuriko, pulling her into a squeeze. "I leave for two months and this is how you greet your best friend?"

"I missed you too. What on earth possessed you to dye your hair?" Yuriko was giggling a little, trying not to be hurtful. "You look like a delinquent from America."

"Ha-Ha," Ian tipped his nose in the air with a prideful sneer. "I'll have you know I simply lost a bet. Got a little drunk. You should see the piercing the other guy had to get."

"How many bets did you make? And with who?" Yuriko sat next to him and shook her head teasingly. She smiled bemused, knowing that Ian was acting a little aloof and evasive. She wouldn't press him, knowing how he would try to use humor to dispel any probing questions he found uncomfortable. "Sounds like you had fun."

"Not as much fun without you," Ian rested his elbow against the bar, his fist pressed against the side of his head as he looked her over. "You are even more beautiful than I remember." As he looked at her with his olive green eyes, smooth newly tanned skin from what she assumed was from the California beaches, and his strong jawline, he had a face that made the girls knees grow shaky and weak. And he knew it.

"Oh, shut up," Yuriko suppressed a nervous giggle and cleared her throat awkwardly. She and Ian had been friends since early high school, when they ended up in the same class together. Both of them were foreigners, the only ones in their class. They stood out. And both of them were often left out of the cliques, too. So naturally they befriended each other. "It's only been two months. But you look so different. Purple hair, that tan." She distracted herself with the TVs playing up above the bar. Different news stations were playing, all covering the latest events. One mentioned talk of a giant squid sighting. The other mentioned the upcoming anniversary of Duel Monsters celebration being held by Maximillion Pegasus at private estate.

"And the craziest two months of my life." Ian sighed and closed his eyes. "So much drama happened in the family so it was good to get away."

"Everything all right?"

"My uncle and my father both haven't been getting along, and the family businesses were starting to get a little abrasive with each other. It was good to get away from Germany and Japan."

It was one of the more open comments he ever made about his family matters. She knew Ian was from a relatively wealthy and powerful family, but she never heard of any company with a Freud being a major figurehead or member. She assumed they were localized in Germany. For years she learned to respect his wish for secrecy and never pursued finding out any more than he wanted her to. She listened as he went on.

"I actually look forward to going back to a normal routine. My latest job is manning a subway station magazine stand. Which sounds so much fun." The sarcasm was dripping with a droplet of sake from his mouth down his chin. Wiping his mouth he added, "Speaking of, I followed Sakura Star online. You've been busy."

"Yep." The cook arrived with a cocktail. She and Ian had been there so often that there was no need to order. Their usuals hadn't changed for years. For her, a peach cocktail and a bowl of the seafood special. For Ian, a bottle of cheap soju and the classic with extra beef and onion. "Otogi is so far the worst out of all the Duel Monsters celebs. He made me do a headstand while singing Donguri Korokoro."

Ian spat out the shot he had just taken, coughing and sputtering. He was choking in laughter. "That's hilarious. That's sounds like it tops the Mako Tsunami interview."

"After the first hour I wished I was dodging harpoons and laughing at lame fish jokes instead of having to play some warped version of craps."

"Everyone you interview is a closet eccentric or insane." Ian continued chuckling to Yuriko's dismay.

"Ha-ha," Yuriko imitated Ian from earlier, rolling her eyes and looking away. "It may be funny for you. But I didn't enjoy it. I was wearing a pencil skirt."

Ian put his hand over his mouth while his face turned red. "Did he see your panties?"

Yuriko smacked him real hard. "No. I insisted that I wear his pants before doing any headstands."

"What exactly went on in that interview?" Ian's bewilderment and bemusement twinkled in his eye.

"More than you need to know," Yuriko winked. She, too, had her secrets."But you know how far I'll go for a story."

A flashing on one of the televisions captured her attention again. It was breaking news: Kaiba Corp. Buys Out Schroeder Corp. Companies Merge.

Ian looked up at the screen, scoffing, "Seto Kaiba at it again. A shame. Another good company bites the dust."

The screen switched over to a media room, where the CEO himself stood at the podium, making his announcements through the multitude of flashes and yelling questions exploding from the media.

"Schroeder Corp. will continue to produce and be supplying ... now under the supervision of Kaiba Corp. For the time being there will be no significant changes. It was an amicable business arrangement and Zigfried von Schroeder has happily stepped down to enjoy retirement. I will ensure that I will take Schroeder Corp. to greater feats and together we will promise the public the latest in holographic dueling technology."

"I wonder how he managed that," Yuriko wondered aloud.

"I bet blackmail."

"No, Seto Kaiba wouldn't do that."

"Oh? You ever meet the guy?" Ian turned to her warily. She always wondered why with the infamous Seto Kaiba her friend became a sudden cynical and abrasive mess. It was one of those many conversations he always refused to go too deep into.

"No, I haven't. I'd love a chance to interview him. Have you?"

Ian looked back up at the TV with a calloused scowl. "Yeah, we've met. He's a dick."

Aware of the sourness the conversation had turned to, Yuriko went to change it. "So did you get to meet any famous Hollywood celebrities?"

Dinner had continued as colorfully as it had started. After the bill was paid Yuriko and Ian stumbled out of the shop with full bellies and buzzed brains.

 _Yuriko was in pain. Pain shot all the way from her lower abdomen straight to her chest. She couldn't scream. Her mouth was full of some itchy fabric that dried her tongue and made it hard to breathe. She wanted to make a noise. But all that she could make was the slow inhale and exhale from her nose. It was dark. And everything hurt. Laughter exploded all around her, growing louder and invading her ears. Her eardrums throbbed in protest. The laughter went higher and higher, until it erupted into a rhythmic beat._

The shrill beep of her alarm jolted her awake. She was completely engulfed in her sheets and bedding like a trapped caterpillar halfway through the chrysalis process and her open mouth had resulted in her tongue being parched. She had to shimmy herself free to silence the persistent screech.

She fell out of her bed, hitting the carpet hard. She hit her head against the end table and let out a groan. "Please, let this day be over soon."

The day didn't get any better after that. Because she had avoided grocery shopping the night before, she was out of coffee. She had no appropriate breakfast food available and had to settle with a glass of orange juice.

The water heater had broken, so her shower was cold and unbearable. Her dryer had apparently dried the very buttons off of her favorite blouse.

It was not going to be a good day.

Thankfully she made it to work on time and with no further casualty. She felt like she was cursed by the gods for unjust reasons outside of knowledge. When she made it to her level and as soon as she collapsed into her chair the day was officially the worst she'd had in a while.

"ADACHI!" The roar of Marukai jolted Yuriko to her feet and she poked her head out of her cubicle. He stood across the hallway in a warrior's stance. "MY OFFICE, NOW!"

"Yes, sir!" She called back. She stood up straight and closed her eyes to collect herself. She then continued to the office where she saw that Xuan was standing with her arms crossed and a sour glowering in her direction.

"Adachi. Ms. Xuan has informed me that you have made some very inappropriate comments to her on the basis of her national origin." The older man was fuming, his mustache bristled with agitation. "That is unacceptable!"

Adachi bowed quickly and defended, "I said nothing of the like! She made rude allegations about _my_ origin!"

"Don't turn this on me! You're the one that-"

"ENOUGH!" Mr. Marukai silenced the two of them before their voices were raised any further. He seemed flustered with deciding his next course of action. "I will not tolerate hostile work environments. We are a team. Can either of you prove yourselves? Were there any witnesses at the times these insults were made?"

Neither Xuan nor Yuriko made a comment. Yuriko's mind was spinning with anger and confusion. She could get into serious trouble over this-and she hadn't done anything wrong! This was one of Xuan's schemes in play. Mr. Marukai was the furious Queen and she was the pawn about to be gobbled up.

Mr. Marukai lowered his head and shook his head. "Since neither can prove it, and neither will admit to wrong doing, I'm afraid my next course of action will punish both of you. Adachi. I was going to have you be our representative for the Duel Monsters Gala coming up. But when Ms. Xuan informed me of what you said to her, I was going to have you penalized and her attend. But now, neither of you will attend."

"But sir!" Ms. Xuan cried out in surprise, her hands on her hips and her expression growing flush with fury.

"No. Now, Ms. Xuan, please leave. I must speak with Ms. Adachi privately."

Xuan hesitated then spun angrily and stormed out of the office, leaving behind the muffled clicks of her heels. Adachi closed the door and looked at her boss with a nervous sheepishness.

"Sir, I promise I never insulted Ms. Xuan based on her being Chinese."

Mr. Marukai took out a cigar and twirled it between his fingers, his bushy eyebrows twitching as he fumed. "Between you and me, I was more than surprised when she approached me this morning. I assumed either it was a misunderstanding or she was lying. But I can't just do nothing about it, you understand."

"Yes, sir," Yuriko softly responded with her hands at her side. She was taken aback that she had been the intended guest to the gala to begin with. Already a pleasant pride then bitter disappointment clouded her mood. "But who will go for the gala?"

"I'll send one of the more junior people. But you and Xuan are our best reporters." The man sighed heavily, his face wrinkled in weary and disappointment. "If I could send both of you I would. But the gala is very exclusive. It took a great deal of our funds and influence to procure one spot on the guest list." Mr. Marukai lit his cigar, taking two healthy puffs before unleashing the smoke like a wistful dragon. "Between you and me, I have more faith in your abilities than in Xuan's. You do everything you can to get things done, out of the sake of the magazine and because you hold the pride in yourself. Xuan will only do whatever it takes if she sees a direct benefit that will reap more reward than the effort. Now. I can't tell you how to live your life, Adachi. What you do during your time off is your business. And what you discover during your off time is your business. And if you happen to apply what you've come across in an article and provided it to work for our benefit, well..." his eyes flashed up at her with expectancy, "I wouldn't fault you on it."

Yuriko nodded, understanding him. "I'll find a way into the gala, sir."

"Kisa will be our representative." His eyebrows twitched at the thought and shook his head slowly. "But I'm expecting you to support her and be the primary force in the event. Do your best. Don't disappoint me." Mr. Marukai's eyes sparkled. "You haven't yet."


	4. The Gala

"Thank you so much, Ian." Yuriko shut her eyes in relief as she collapsed on her couch. She had been unsure when she called her friend for help. A few times she had been able to get into some private nightclubs and special events all because he had a relative somehow involved in the party organization or just blatantly out of being known himself. She had called in for a favor. One of the biggest ones she's ever asked of him.

"No big. My cousin is allowed to invite guests to Pegasus' gala. Just remember: You can't openly admit you're a reporter. You're going to have to be... a little shady about this. Get a wig or something. Pegasus' security will only let the approved reporters into his mansion. I wouldn't be surprised if they know who you are and what you look like..." Ian paused before adding, "My cousin will put your name on the guest list, and he'll wait around to make sure you get in with no trouble. But he doesn't want any issues with a supposed 'relative' violating the privacy of the guests."

"I'll be discreet. I promise." Yuriko folded her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arm tightly around them. Her heart thudded faster in brisk anticipation. This was one of those rare lucky moments in her life where everything seemed to just land into place so easily.

"Try to bring back a gift basket for me! They always have some cool exclusive card that they distribute to these events." Ian's tone was hungry and eager, his passion for duel monsters and card collecting one of the greatest Yuriko had ever come across in her career.

"Why don't you come along? It'd be nice to have a friendly face." Yuriko already dreaded the crowds of the wealthy and renown champions. All potential stories. All potential emotional sharks that would love a chance to rip her to chum.

"I'd go, but you know how it goes with all those cameras and how people gossip. My old man would lose his mind if he heard I was cavorting around right now in Japan. He thinks I'm in England right now, spending time with my mother. Anyways, what do you want your new name to be?"

Yuriko thought about it, her mind drawing a blank. It came to her as brief as a spark in the night. She blurted out, "Sora."

"Okay. Sora Freud, it is." Ian chuckled over the phone. "Welcome to the family."

"Thanks, again, Ian. You're the best."

"I know. Have fun at the gala. I wish I could make it, now. I bet you're going to be beautiful in disguise," he teased. The distant background noise of a subway car slowing down to a stop and the angry curses of a woman followed by his sharp retort, "Quit your whining, I'm getting off! I'm getting off the phone, just hang on! ...I need to go. Let me know if you have any questions."

"I will. Goodbye," Yuriko hung up and went to make another urgent phone call.

"Hey, Kisa, it's me. Can you turn me into someone else?"

When Yuriko stepped into the mirror, her breath froze in her throat. Black hair, shoulder length with bangs that covered her forehead and styled delicately in gentle waves with little sparkling jewels pinned in the expensive hairpiece, framed her made up face. Bright amber eyes stared back at her, the look of startled bewilderment masking her expression.

Her eyebrows had been temporarily tinted to match the wig. She looked like she had always been a brunette.

An elegant and charming little black dress provided Yuriko with more curves than she thought she had. High heeled, with bold red lips, and smoldered eye shadow, she looked like a powerful seductress and not the shy little girl that she felt was hidden behind the make up and disguise. She looked like a mighty woman. An Amazoness.

"Oh, Sora, you're stunning." Kisa put her hand around her friend's waist and leaned into the mirror as well. Her bleached apricot hair was pulled up in a chic updo, her dangling silver earrings cold against Yuriko's neck. "I honestly wouldn't know who you are if we crossed paths in the street."

"I don't recognize myself," Yuriko turned her face to the left and right. "You did a wonderful job. Thank you." Kisa had happily provided the means and advice for the new look.

"Don't mention it. I'm just happy that both of us get to go! How did you get put on the guest list?"

"Well," Yuriko turned to her friend. "We'll have to arrive separately, but just know my name on the guest list is Sora Freud."

"Gross, you got _his_ help?" Kisa shook her head in disapproval but forced a smile. "Well, it's not like he's the one that's going. I can't wait, I hear Jounouchi is going to be there. He's so handsome." She giggled excitedly, her face full of glee. "What about you? Anyone you're particularly excited about seeing tonight?"

"It will be cool to see Pegasus in real life. I heard he can be pretty flamboyant with his tastes."

"I hear he's spared no expense tonight. It's supposed to be a party like no other."

"Then let's not waste anymore time. Let's go."

She and Kisa had went their separate ways. Kisa, in the company car, and 'Sora' in a limousine courtesy of Ian.

Yuriko was like a curious rabbit, peaking inside the sidebar and messing around with the buttons in the side console as she was driven from the busy streets of Domino and deep into the highways. Pegasus' mansion was off in the country, many miles from the city.

Yuriko sent texts to Kisa and Ian, telling Kisa to not wait up on her and thanking Ian for all the help he provided. A new text, from Eric Freud, Ian's cousin, arrived and informed her to that she was expected to enter the mansion with ease.

Heart hammering and fingers shaking, Yuriko's nerves started eating away at the adrenaline that had put her in that wig and dress and made it as far as she could. If she was caught, she could possibly be arrested. And despite the Sakura Star eager to collect all the celebrity gossip it could, it frowned upon being a public nuisance. Despite how eager the magazine would be to publish a story, if the method of finding the story was up for scandal she could be renounced and jobless.

But the thrill kept her moving forward; it was a positive excitement she had. She was looking forward to the experience. She had never changed her identity before. She could be and act any way she wanted to. And so long as no one yanked the hair off her head, she could get away with it.

She felt a little vain as she looked at her reflection in the window of the limo. She thought she looked so much prettier as Sora than as Yuriko. She felt like a traitor to her true self. And refreshed, like a phoenix that had burst into flame and reborn into a newer, better self from the ashes.

When the limo pulled up to the rich velvet carpet that led up the great marble stairs of Pegasus' front doors, the roped off throngs of cameramen, photographers, and yelling reporters exploded all around as soon as her door opened. They expected a famous duelist or business associate. The riot faded as no one recognized her. Most of the security were manning the roped off sidelines, their presence intimidating and stoic as they carefully eyed down the media with forced frowns and hands clasping behind their backs.

A tall heavyset man in a black tuxedo and sunglasses (which Yuriko thought looked ridiculous so late at night) arrived with tablet in hand, his hand gripping a stylus and waiting for her expectantly.

Yuriko's heart skipped. "Sora Freud."

After a few swipes, the man nodded. His voice was deep and stern. "Welcome, Ms. Freud. Please enjoy the festivities."

As Yuriko grabbed her clutch and made her way up the many stairs up to the great building, she took in the beautiful little candled lanterns that rested at the edge of the stairs and lit her way up. There were roses all exploding in rich reds that trimmed the stone side rails; the scent of smokey meat, fragrant roses, and expensive perfume flooded past her.

It seemed most of the guests had already arrived. When she entered the front foyer the faintest stringed symphony captured her attention. To her right was a regal entrance to the ballroom, where upon a stage a fully equipped orchestra performed a waltz.

The architecture was breathtaking, with golden embossed hand carved paneling and rich scarlet swirled designs intricately placed into the walls. Yuriko walked down the hallways to her left; the expansive walkway was full of tasteful oil paintings that reminded her of Ian's talk of the Louvre, but instead of the renaissance or crusade eras, it was all reminiscent of Ancient Egyptian themes and Duel Monsters. She wondered if Maximillion Pegasus himself painted them, and decided she would ask him if she had the chance to meet him.

Conversations and laughter grew stronger as she made it to a reception area. Great lounge recliners with silk cushions and bold coloring rested against the walls. Mighty marble pillars supported the great room, and in the center were round tables all table clothed with a multitude of silverware and artistic porcelain.

Yuriko stepped to the side to take it all in. She couldn't believe people lived like this.

"Champagne, miss?" A serving gentleman arrived with flutes upon a silver tray.

"Thank you," she took one, smiling at him as he walked away.

She recognized many faces. Mai Kujaku was flirting playfully with a group of older men by an open bar. Her dress was so low cut and accentuated her curves to the point that Yuriko blushed a little. She saw Jounouchi ... as well, piling up a mountain of food at the buffet tables without shame. Even Otogi was off in the distance, talking with a short redhead.

She saw Mutou, recognizing his wild hair seated at one of the round tables by himself. She decided it was the perfect opportunity. She approached, a smile on her face and a fresh wave of confidence. He looked even younger in person, his large round violet eyes downcast in his drink.

"Everything all right, Mr. Mutou?"

The young man looked up at her, a blank expression on his face. "Yes, thank you. I don't think we've met before."

"We haven't. My name is Sora. It's nice to meet you." She gestured to the chair next to his. "May I have a seat?"

"Of course," he lit up immediately, a small smile on his lips. "What brings you to the gala?"

"A relative invited me. I couldn't turn down the opportunity to meet some of the greatest duelists." She noticed his smile faltered a little. She backpedaled quickly. "I also couldn't say no to a chance to dress up and dance." The smile had completely faded and Yuriko became a little confused. "I'm sorry, did I offend you?"

"No-not at all," Yugi raised his hands and looked bashful. "It's just that you reminded me of one of my friends. She's studying in New York for dancing. She was supposed to come tonight but couldn't make it. I miss her."

Yuriko nodded, full of sympathy. "She must mean a lot to you."

Yugi nodded, looking over at Jounouchi. "She is. She was my first friend in high school. She was there for me through all the Duel Monsters tournaments. From the very beginning."

"What's her name?"

"Anzu Mazaki." Yugi looked back at Sora, studying her. "Are you sure we haven't met before?"

This startled Yuriko and she sat up straight to the question. "No, I can't say we have. Do I remind you of someone?"

"Yes. I can't remember who, but I feel like I've seen you before." Yugi blinked a few times as he stared at Yuriko, but shrugged away. "Oh well, maybe I'm just imagining things. So... uh... what do you do?"

He was awkwardly grinning, rubbing the back of his head as he laughed at his own bashfulness. Yuriko decided she liked him. He seemed blissfully innocent and friendly. So she decided to risk a little honesty. "To be honest, I'm here because of work. My boss wanted me to attend and get to know the original Duel Monsters royalty. I've always been a fan of the game but never played competitively. How about you? Besides the tournaments, of course."

"Well, I've actually now focused more on taking care of the family game shop. My grandfather passed away two years ago. It meant everything to him, so I'm keeping his store alive. Business has been really good these days, especially after the opening of Kaibaland and the plans for a dueling academy."

Yuriko nodded, making sure she remembered as much info as possible. She didn't have any recording device on her in case she had been searched. She regretted not having her cell phone set up to record. "I'm sorry about your grandfather. That's very sweet of you, looking after his legacy."

"Thank you," Yugi blushed a little and smiled to her. "That's very kind of you to say."

"Hey! Can you believe the size of the shrimp? These are more like lobster tails!" An informal voice full of slang and noise approached the table. Jounouchi had arrived, his mountain of extravagant delectables slightly teetering off to the side like the leaning tower of piza.

"Jounouchi, this is Sora."

"Nice to meetcha! I'm the third highest ranking duelist in the world." And with that Jounouchi began to scarf down his mountain, food flying in chunks as he hungrily downed his feast.

"It's not nice to brag," Yugi softly scolded with a playful grin. "Jou and I have been friends for a while. Since high school."

"Yep," Jounouchi spoke in between mouthfuls, resulting in showing the world half eaten food in between his teeth. The way he gobbled down forkful after forkful with such a toothy grin made Yuriko think about a hungry puppy dog. It was cute. "He and his gramps taught me everything I know about Duel Monsters."

Yuriko continued to sit with Yugi and Jounouchi. Some more people flocked to the group, a pointy haired brunette named Honda, a man as fair as she was by the name of Ryou Bakura, and Mai Kujaku. Sora was surprised with how easy it was to talk to the group-all of them, opening up like books that loved to be read. They all seemed like friendly people. She planned her article to shine them in a very positive light.

"Oh, look. Moneybags is over there." Jounouchi had finished his massacre to his plate and sat back with belly extended and toothpick in teeth. He looked half interested across the room.

Everyone turned to look. Standing a full head taller than the general crowd in a black tuxedo stood the great Seto Kaiba himself. He looked bored, his expression a blank slate with sharp eyes that seemed to look down on anything and everything that fell under their glance. He was off at a corner, looking around but not at anything particularly.

A bob of apricot orange hair making a beeline right to the CEO made Yuriko aware that Kisa was trying to get a statement from the man. She winced at seeing him word what she assumed was a major insult and walk off. Kisa turned to watch him storm off, her mouth unhinged with offended surprise.

"Oh dear. Excuse me. That's a friend of mine." Yuriko quickly went to the girl who's eyes were already brimming with tears. "Kisa, what did he say to you?"

Kisa sniffled and fanned her face while forcing a laugh. Her eyes glittered in the lighting with impassioned offense. "He just called me a prostitute."

Yuriko angrily spun her head in the direction of the assailant. Fury burned in her chest but she forced it back under the lead blanket of self control. Placing her hands on her shoulders she led her to the round table of more friendly people. "Let me handle the problem subjects. I've got these guys warmed up for you. Just tell them I'm a writer, not a reporter. You can write an article about the King of Games himself."

Kisa perked up instantly, looking surprised. "But what will you give Mr. Marukai?"

"A separate article. Don't worry, I still haven't had a chance to even see Pegasus yet."

After Kisa was properly introduced and left in the care of the friendlier clientele, Yuriko began wandering about with new foresight. It seemed Seto Kaiba would be the most difficult to approach. But she'd have to try at some point. He had disappeared, but knew he wouldn't be easy to miss.

After many minutes of aimless wanderings and gawking at the expressive interior decorations Yuriko realized she was lost. She had long since past another person in the wing. The hall she was in appeared dimly lit and not part of the party.

"Oh no," she muttered to herself, feeling goosebumps rise as she began to pick up her pace while opening every door she came across. Her feet were starting to throb in her shoes, her heels more for looks than function.

She opened doors to large guest rooms, random studies, and a few libraries. She kept coming across futile route after futile route, passing marble statues and oil paintings like a mouse in a fancy maze with no real escape. She was growing weary with her wanderings and wanted nothing more than to find her way back to people and the festivities. She came across one particularly welcoming library. The fireplace within had been lit, the fires casting warm orange light upon the shelves of books that completely covered the walls. She walked in, passing the rows of shelves. If she wasn't so eager to get back to the festivities she would have leaped in joy at coming across a treasure trove for bookworms.

"Hello?" Yuriko called out, her voice seemed swallowed up by the infinite paper that provided insulation to the walls and tasteful Arabian carpets on the hardwood floors. "Anyone here? I'm lost and want to go back to the party."

A desk with a lit stained glass lampshade seemed to have been recently used. The chair was pulled out as though the user had only gotten up to get something quickly and intended on returning.

She was shivering from being away from the fire, but her curiosity pulled her closer to the desk and the contents strewn about upon it. Some documents involving Industrial Illusions, a handwritten letter with slender curvature inked upon the pages, and a framed photo of a beautiful blonde woman with hair around her small face like a halo.

Her interest peaked. She picked up the frame and studied the woman. It seemed like an older photograph, the woman looking like she was in her early 20s.

She noticed the letter began with 'My Dearest Max,'

"What have we hear?" A colorfully flared voice called out to her and made her jump. She spun around to find herself in the presence of the mighty creator of Duel Monsters, Maximillion Pegasus.

"Mr. Pegasus!" Yuriko squeaked and carefully put the frame back on the desk. "I'm sorry for the intrusion! I've lost my way."

The tall and handsome older man smirked. He wore a tasteful rich ebony evening suit with a crimson ascot around his neck. Long silver hair covered his left eye and reached just past his shoulders. As he neared her she could smell his cologne, a hint of citrus and musk.

"Relax, my dear. It is a large place, I know. I find myself misplacing my belongings all the time. It can be a nuisance. Come," he held out his arm for her to take. "I'll take you back to the ballroom personally. I was about to go give my regards to the guests. I admit I've been a little antisocial tonight."

"Thank you," Yuriko took his arm, noting how strong his grasp was. He was holding onto her firmly, as though expecting her to bolt. "And the party is amazing. Your home is beautiful."

"Your presence does me honor, Ms. Yuriko Adachi." He whispered her name into her ear and she immediately tensed at this. He tightened his grip on her before she pulled away. "Now, now, no need to cause a scene. I don't intend on calling security to escort you out. Nor do I plan on revealing who you are. I admit, your disguise is quite convincing. But I already spoke with my connections to the Freud family. And there is no one with the name of Sora. I just like to know who crashes my parties."

Knowing that fighting him off was futile, Yuriko eased her flailing and continued to be led through the mansion. She was at a loss for words, so she kept her mouth shut and fumed to herself.

"There's no need to pout, my sweet. I've read your articles. I find the Sakura Star a fun magazine to follow. Have you come across anything interesting tonight to write about?"

"A few new facts," Yuriko was cautious and tense. She didn't know what to say without possibly angering the elder. He seemed like he was more amused than upset, but she didn't want to risk being revealed. But she decided there was no turning back. She was already a pheasant in the net. She could only coo to her captor or flap around in futility. She chose to coo. "Would you be available for some questions later tonight, sir?"

His laughter was rich and rang about the hallway. "You're so daring, I love it. Yes, my dear. Go ahead, ask your questions. If you'd like to schedule a more intimate setting for a more extensive article we can schedule an appointment. I'll even email you some flattering photos, so long as you promise to put them in the magazine with your article." He winked at her and made a new blush rise to Yuriko's cheeks.

"Thank you, how can I contact you?"

Pegasus reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a lavender business card. "Feel free to schedule with my assistant."

They finally made it to the end of a hallway that had the remnants of party goers cackling and the growing sound of crowd conversation. People all around glanced over in their direction, some people pausing from midsentence to study the scene. Everyone knew Maximillion Pegasus at first sight but Yuriko knew no one had any idea who she was. They had entered the ballroom, where the orchestra had gone to take a recess.

"Mr. Pegasus, sir," one of the body guards appeared at their side. "The stage is ready."

"Very good." Pegasus turned to the Yuriko and released her. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "It was wonderful catching up, Sora. Please enjoy the rest of your night. If there's anything you need, please don't be afraid to ask. I look forward to meeting you again."

He walked to the stage, climbed the steps and took the singular microphone off of its stand. He cleared his throat, holding his hand out in a charismatic fashion. "Good evening, everyone. I hope you find everything to your liking."

Applause roared about, the clinking of wine glasses and champagne flutes like harmonious bells echoing off the marble floors. Yuriko joined in, paying her attention to Pegasus.

"Duel Monsters was a project I had no idea would grow to become the iconic card game of the world today. And all of you have become such a vital part of this world. You've inspired and touched the lives of many. And tonight is for all of you." Pegasus snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared with a tray holding a single flute of champagne. Pegasus took it and held it out for everyone. "A toast. To all of you. The champions of Duel Monsters. To the investors and businesses that believed in me and the game. You all made this possible. May this legacy continue, for many years."

Another round of applause broke out, followed by Pegasus drinking his champagne. He finished and placed the mic back onto its stand before walking off the stage. A throng of people lined up to provide their congratulations to the man, all eager smiles and words of praise.

Yuriko gave one last glance at the man, musing to herself on how strange it was on how they met. She looked forward to the interview.

Before she turned her head she began walking and resulted in the consequence of colliding into a warm body. She surprised herself with how forceful the collision was, to the point the breath was half knocked out of her.

"Excuse me," she choked out as she looked up. She felt her face cool and slacken when the cobalt blue irises glared down at her. Rich brown hair; handsome but full of disdain, Seto Kaiba looked down at her with annoyance.


	5. The Labyrinth

"Excuse me," Yuriko repeated, wanting more than anything to sink into the ground and vanish. She wished she was like Shadowcat. To phase through solid objects would have prevented her from getting into this situation in the first place. _Not like the situation would even be relevant since I doubt I'd be a reporter if I was in the X-Men_ , she scolded herself.

Seto Kaiba didn't respond right away, but instead glared at her with the same look of disdain that he seemed to share to all indiscriminately. He regarded her carefully, as though waiting for her to make the first statement in the intensely awkward situation.

"I hope my clumsiness didn't offend you. My name is Sora Freud." She held her hand out despite expecting him to walk away in complete cold disregard. She almost jumped back from the electric shock of feeling his warm firm grip contact her cool skin, followed by shaking her hand for a short moment. Feeling a little more daring, she asked, "Have you enjoyed the gala?"

"I'm here on business. I need to discuss matters with Pegasus." His voice was crisp and short. Clippings from a newspaper.

"I see." Yuriko's eyes shot toward Pegasus who was completely overrun with eager guests wanting a chance to speak with him. "That looks like it's going to be a bit of a challenge tonight."

"If someone as unimportant as you were able to get his attention, I'm sure I won't have much of a challenge."

Yuriko gave a sharp stare at the CEO, partly in disbelief at the blatant rude insult. It was like dealing with a male Xuan. She shook her head and a small smile played on her lips. "You know, if you were a little more civil maybe I'd help."

"Like I need help. I've done fine on my own. I don't need help from someone like you."

Confidence. Confidence swelled within her in a way she forgot it could, completely enveloping herself like titanium sheets. She looked toward him and then back toward Pegasus, who was in the middle of answering questions for Kisa. "I'm sure you'd manage fine without me. But it's a special night. So how about we make a deal."

Kaiba's solid expression hadn't betrayed any thought or emotion. He merely watched her; studying her like a foreign substance in a petri dish. It seemed he wasn't sure whether to be fascinated or disgusted.

"I'll bring Pegasus over here. And you lighten up a little tonight. Maybe even give my friend some time for an interview." He dropped his arms and squared his shoulders, clearly about to walk away. Yuriko's heart stopped. "He'll speak with you. Just wait." His hesitation was all she needed for her to go.

Her heart had decided to start a 100 meter sprint while she approached Kisa and Pegasus, her chest aching and her fingers trembling in a violent symphony.

"Excuse me," she interjected Kisa in mid sentence, her face slightly flushed with the brashness. Kisa's eyes flashed from Pegasus to Yuriko, perplexity shining behind her artificial green contacts. "Sorry to interrupt. But Mr. Pegasus, would it be possible if you walk over to where Seto Kaiba is and speak with him?" She winked and added in a hushed tone in his ear, "I want to prove a point."

Pegasus' stare melted into a humorous mirth and he let out a deep chuckle. "My, my, already asking for favors I see. Very well, so long as it's at Kaiba boy's expense I would be delighted to. What should I say?"

Yuriko raised a finger in overzealous glee. "That Sora, the lovely and beguiling lady asked kindly for you to give attention to the wretched egomaniac."

Pegasus laughed loudly, turning puzzled onlookers' heads. "I like your spirit. I'll be sure to emphasize how beguiling you are." He walked toward Kaiba, whose eyes had widened just barely at the entire scene.

"Are you drunk?" Kisa whispered in a petrified tone. "You just took Pegasus away from me!"

"Don't worry," Yuriko whispered. "We've already gotten Pegasus to do an exclusive. But Seto Kaiba is the real prize." She briefly shot a glance in his direction, seeing that he and Pegasus had taken a few steps away to discuss matters more privately. "I'm sorry I got in the way. But now maybe Kaiba will be more available to talk with you."

"Wait-what?!" Kisa's shrill cry made Yuriko flinch. "I can't handle him! He's a tyrant! A complete jerk!"

"Just be professional. Look! They're both walking toward us! Come on, just be cool."

"This coming from you, I feel like we've switched roles!" Kisa's terrified eyes and rapid lip tremors were a sight to behold. She was absolutely flustered.

"Thank you for convincing me to talk with Kaiba boy, my sweet Sora. If you haven't been so insistent I would have continued to avoid him all night." He put his arm around Yuriko and gave her a squeeze before leaving with a fleeting, "Have fun."

Kisa's mouth continued to be agape, watching Pegasus gracefully stroll away like a taunting cat. Yuriko faced the man, trying hard to resist the cocky grin that was growing on her mouth. He looked far from being put off like he did moments before. Instead, he eyed down Yuriko with a newfound glare of respect.

"Did that help you out at all?" Yuriko couldn't help but throw something at his face. She kept her smile genuine though. It was one of the biggest victories she had in a long time.

"It did. Thank you." Kaiba looked over at Kisa. "Is this the tabloid friend you mentioned?"

"-Hup" Kisa made a noise that sounded part burp part hiccup. Yuriko laughed, putting her arm around her friend's shoulders and guiding her closer. "Yes. This is Kisa Hoshino. She's a reporter for the Sakura Star. She'd be honored to have a chance to write about you."

"Fine. Miss Hoshino." Kaiba hissed the honorific behind clenched teeth. He tilted his head down in defeat. "I will gladly provide some time for your article."

"Have fun. Text if you need me." Yuriko waved and slinked away, fluttering and joyous. The magazine was going to have a field day when they found out they got the exclusive from Seto freaking Kaiba. She was floating.

Wanting to powder her nose, she went off to the nearest lady's room. Her mind whirled with wonderment on her bolder behavior. She would have normally been terrified. But tonight she was invincible. Sora took on the world without a second thought. Yuriko would have bowed her head and retreated to the safety of her apartment.

Yuriko looked herself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom. It truly felt like she had changed. Yuriko was dead. Sora was flesh and blood.

She returned to the ballroom, recognizing the music with a hopeful desire to dance. Her thoughts were swimming and treading past the worries that normally made the waters rough and turbulent.

"Would you like to dance?" Yugi approached her with a shining grin. She took his hands, thinking the height difference was cute. She wondered how graceful they would look: The last time she waltzed she had been starting university.

She and Yugi spun and moved about the ballroom past familiar faces that shared in the joys of the moment. "How's your night been?" He looked up at her with an innocent smile, indigo eyes shining. It was a little awkward how he had to raise his hand above his head to hold her hand, but she blamed her heels for the extra inches.

Yuriko couldn't help but smile back. He was absolutely sweet. "Very interesting. Did Kisa treat you well?"

"Oh yes, she's one of the most polite reporters I've met. I told her she is more than welcome to call me for another interview later."

"That's great. Thank you, it'll help her out a lot." Yuriko was spun around, their arms outstretched in synchronized movement. When she returned to his arms he led her further across the room and dipped her. She was surprised he could support her, though she felt the subtle tremor of strain in his arms. He was looking in her eyes with a distracted gaze. "What's up?"

"Nothing. But are you wearing contacts?"

She quickly returned to the basic steps of the dance, playing it off as smooth as possible. "Yes, I wear glasses normally." Her lenses were as natural in appearance as the market could provide. She had thought they looked believable. But perhaps they didn't convince everyone.

"Oh, I see." Yugi shrugged and laughed. "Just surprised, I can't imagine you wearing glasses. You have such a pretty eye color."

A sigh of relief was stifled in her chest. Instead she laughed with him. "I look like a super nerd at home." As they finished the dance, laughing and continuing the small talk, they stopped to look at the man that approached them.

Seto Kaiba, done with his interview, was at their side. "May I?"

Yugi stepped back, waving in a pleasant farewell as she turned to the much taller figure. She couldn't help but frown, surprise being the understatement of how she felt. But she couldn't burn this bridge just yet. If he, too, was interested in continuing an interview this would be wonderful for the Star.

She took his hand, letting him take the reins to their direction. His hand was upon her waist, bringing electric divergent emotions zigzag in her skull. He felt warm through her dress. And very close. She looked up at him, silvery blue orbs that penetrated into her shielded artificial brown.

She knew she was making herself vulnerable with breaking the silence. He had her in his web-she was a little gnat caught in the venomous arachnid's grasp. "I'm surprised that we're doing this."

"Why?" He, unlike Yugi, had steered at the corner. Away from the general masses.

"Because..." She didn't want to be frank with him, but figured there couldn't be any more harm done. It seemed he didn't mind what she did. "I came off as obnoxious. And you have no use for me anymore."

He smirked. "I'm sure I could find a use for you elsewhere."

 _Oh no. He's flirting with me._

She narrowed her eyes, the sudden desire to pull away and run strong. He seemed to sense it and tightened his squeezing of her left hand and readjusting his grasp on her waist. _Is his hand lowering? Oh, shit. It is._

"I'm assuming you're visiting Japan for the upcoming tournament. Am I right?"

"Yes," she blurted, quickly taking a mental shovel and beating the ever loving crap out of her subconscious that protested in the lie.

"Where are you from?"

It was irony in its most basic of forms. The reporter was being interviewed.

And then the lies began. Like the bursting of an over pressurized dam.

"Europe."

"Where in Europe?" He should have been annoyed by her elusiveness. But instead his smirk deepened. He was enjoying her being difficult.

"Western Europe."

"Germany?"

"I won't say." She didn't want to play this game. She knew the dangers of beginning the 'lie to me' game. She'd have to keep up with it all.

"Fine. Then tell me what you're doing in Japan."

"Why do you care?" She shot back, feeling like a cornered spitting cat. Her very hairs on the nape of her neck was prickled with tense caution. Thank god her wig kept her scalp warm. She was getting goosebumps all over her body.

"Because you've caught my attention." He had reduced the pace of their movement into a slow dance. He gently released her left hand and went to grab her waist. She looked around in desperate hope to find a savior or at least point out that this was not that kind of dance. Unfortunately, she hadn't realized the songs had evolved to a romantic theme and everyone else were partaking in the ambiance of slow danced steps. Both hands were on her waist, finally moved upward in a height she was comfortable in. She placed both hands on his upper arms-his shoulders were far too high for it not to look peculiar if she tried. "And I'm curious. What's a girl like you doing here?"

"Well hate to break it to you. But I'm boring. And not easy. So if it's a quick fuck you're interested in, let's not dick around." She was now the rabid spitting feline in full fledged incarnation. She glared at him, projecting her assumptions of his attentions and despising him for it.

He let out a laugh. It was deep and full of dark humor. She looked around with rising heat in her face. People all over turned to stare. It seemed the laughter of Seto Kaiba was of the same rarity of a solar eclipse. And the uncertainty of what it meant brought the morbid fascination of all within the area. "You're drawing too much attention to us."

"Isn't that what you want?" His eyes glittered with malice. His smirk became a sneer as he pulled her in and hissed in her ear, "If I wanted to fuck you, I'd have you bent over the next bathroom sink by now. And you'd be begging for more when we were done." She smelled the liquor on his breath. She was surprised she hadn't noticed it until now.

She pulled sharply and slapped him as hard as she could. Her palm stung but she was satisfied. The orchestra had halted their performance. All other dancers had frozen to gawk. "Go home, kid. You're drunk." She stormed out the ballroom, her heels clicking off in echoes.

Fleeing to the most secluded room of the party, Yuriko drank her champagne and sulked. Hours were drawn out in long winded cycles like the infinite blips of eternity. The night wouldn't end fast enough, now, it seemed. She desired to kick off her heels and breathe some cold night air.

The balcony off the ballroom was her newfound little sanctuary. She stepped out to find only a couple in the corner intimately talking amongst themselves. She looked up and enjoyed the never ending twinklings stars that expanded as far as her eyes could see. The countryside provided the most constellation sightseeing she ever experienced. She walked to the rails, sitting on a stone bench resting against them. Her heels dropped to the earthy marble floor, her bare feet airing out and propped up on the bench with her. Fountains and the rushing and bubbling sounds soothed her as she sighed. Her muscles ached; her head was swimming. She felt her eyelids fall shut, her brain humming with white noise.

"I wouldn't sleep out here." His voice made her jerk forward. Despite it not belonging to the one from her nightmares, this one was another very real threat.

And to top it all off, not only was he a shrewd asshole. He was a sneaky one.

She hadn't heard him approach. He either had snuck up on her or she was as tired as she felt. She wasn't in the mood to continue the battle. She decided to make the first gesture for a ceasefire."But it's such a beautiful night."

"It is." The lighting from indoors was at his back, shrouding his face completely. He was like a faceless spirit, standing over her. She moved her feet and sat upright, gesturing for him to take a seat with her. He seemed to reconsider before slowly sitting beside her. The light landed upon him, catching the blue of his eyes and transforming them to the slightest beryl. They were on her and not stopping their studious behavior. It made her feel a little awkward. But she was far too buzzed and weary to care that much. "I want to apologize. That was rude of me to say." He cleared his throat and looked away. "It was out of character."

They were together in silence. She was the first to break the ice.

"I forgive you." She looked over at him. He was looking down at his lap, his hands flat against the bench. He looked troubled; less like the arrogant man and more like a lost boy. A wave of pity hit her. He's not a monster. Just an idiot. She nudged his calf with her bare foot and sent him a smile as a token of peace. "Don't look so sad. We all act stupid once in a while. We're human. I make a fool out of myself every day."

"I don't doubt it," he shot back. She giggled a little and sighed.

Minutes past. She didn't mind the lack of conversation. It seemed he didn't either. Her mind wandered, bits and pieces of the past and the present mingled together. She felt completely balanced. This was perfect present-tense paradise.

"Wouldn't it be great to just live out here?" She was more talking to herself. She hadn't expected a response.

"I already do."

She laughed. It was a little harsh. "Of course you do." She quickly regretted the attack, adding, "I'm sorry. That was rude."

"Who are you?" Demanding. He sounded slightly aggravated, as though he couldn't believe some stranger like her would dare speak to him that way. There went the peace. Flapping away like a feral swallow soaring for freedom.

"Sora Freud."

"I've never heard of you before. Are you a duelist? A businesswoman?" The game had begun again. Only this time, his questions became brash and precise. The party was almost over, she knew. Maybe he was concerned he was running out of time.

" _I am a forest, and a night of dark trees_." Yuriko's mind was on autopilot, not really having a care on what this man thought of her. If batshit crazy was how she felt, then batshit crazy was how she would be. And the interrogation was going to be a short one. If he continued his questions she would simply leave. She had that choice.

He was silent again, for a few seconds. " _But he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses._ "

"So you're a Nietzsche fan?" She raised an eyebrow, impressed. She hadn't looked at him the entire time, instead choosing to look over the rails out to the fields. She wished she could see the roses below. But the moon was new; the stars weren't strong enough to let her see.

" _Thus Spoke Zarathustra_ is my favorite."

"Mine too..." In fact, her false name was inspired by another line from the book. _The higher we soar the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly._ It wasn't that she wished she could disappear from the world. But it was a beautiful idea to be special. To be able to escape from the masses.

"What did you think about _Beyond Good and Evil_?"

She lost track of how long they stayed, the tense hushed discussions perturbing but not disturbing. They eventually returned to their quiet. Both had become simply silent. He sat there, his face tantalizingly proportional and balanced. She was developing curiosity-it grew with every second that nothing was said-and wanted to talk more of Nietzsche. She wanted to talk of his other works. Philosophy. Opinions. She missed the discussions her classes used to provide her-that passionate imploration for mental expansion and knowledge exploration. And their talk had rekindled that enthusiasm she had.

 _He's not an idiot on some things, it seems. I wonder where he studied._

She was becoming so damn curious about this infamous person she only read about from third parties and speculation. The shallow personality profiles set up in the gossip columns had only spoke of his blood type; zodiac; meaningless little tidbits that weren't truly him. But she just couldn't seem to open her mouth and ask another question. He kept asking who she was. Now she wanted to know who he was. She, fearless Sora, had finally come back to earth and didn't feel like spreading her wings any longer.

"Do you write?" He took flight first. She mentally thanked him.

"I do. A lot."

"What do you write?"

"Fiction. Non fiction. Fantasies of mine. Biographies of others." She wasn't technically lying. But they were continuing their waltz in verbal medium form. "I do what I need to pay bills."

"You're being vague on purpose." They weren't playing the game anymore, having opened up to the other. But she was going in reverse. He was accusing her. She knew what he was thinking. He wasn't naive. She openly admitted she was friends with a gossip columnist, for Christ's sake.

But she wouldn't confess it. The irrational desire to keep as much of herself a secret overcame her thought process. Confliction drove her to defense mode. Her identity was her most precious treasure right now. If he knew she was really Yuriko Adachi-he would have that one thing from her that she had not consented to give. More than anything she wanted to hold onto what she had until she, herself, decided when to give it to another. She would rather lie. She spoke in English. One of Ian's tirades of England made her remember the term. "I'm a Sloane Ranger. That's all you need to know." She stood up, gathered her heels and turned to leave.

"Stop." He, too, spoke in English. "Tell me what you're afraid of." His was without accent-without flaw. It was an order, something she couldn't help but sneer at. Of course he would give out commands. "If it's a preconception based on what your tabloid friends like to spread, I think you need to reconsider your sources."

He assumed she was judging him based on some false rumor that her kind wrote about him. It was almost laughable-he thought it involved him in some way. It was far from it. Her own preconception was unrelated to him. It had nothing to do with him.

She turned her head slightly but refused to move. _Get away,_ her mind warned her in foreboding terror. The realization of how vulnerable she had let herself become resolidified her defenses. Yet she remained still, her toes numb from the cold smooth marble that her feet pressed against. The temperature made her shiver but it brought along with the discomfort the peace of knowing she was outside in the night with absolute liberty. And so she remained. He rose, taking his jacket off and approached her.

She lifted her chin, forcing herself not to flinch away as she felt the smooth fabric fall over her shoulders. He was close. Very close. His jacket smelled of spice-remnants of amber and ginger tickled her nose and brought her to a state of lightheaded allurement. It was very warm still, from the original wearer. He leaned in and whispered with temptation, " _Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies_."

"Thank you," she muttered, returning to Japanese. Sora was officially no longer spinning drunkenly outside of Yuriko's comfort zone. She was lying on her back as the zone lit up in flames.

"Have you seen Pegasus' rose gardens? They're right below us." He had his arm around her shoulder and was leading her away. She looked around quickly, relaxing as soon as she saw a comforting amount of people around them as they made their way to the side staircase that led to the foliage below. She couldn't blame the alcohol. Her mind was surprisingly clear, though her skin was flushed with the rush of drink and adrenaline and maybe-just maybe-the overwhelming cascades of attraction she suddenly felt.

H _e's clearly just looking for something quick and easy. He's Seto Kaiba. He can have anyone. And he has._ She decided to think on the flip side. _Yes, all of that could be the truth. But what if he just likes you because you can quote Nietzsche?_

She wished more than anything for a natural disaster to strike and give her the distraction she needed to escape.

But instead of natural disaster, an artificial disaster seemed to attack. Illumination rained down upon them; blinding them. They stood on a little pebbled pathway that curved lazily around the multitude of blood red roses and the sparkling clear waters of the white monumental fountains. Someone had turned on the outdoor lighting and it was very bright.

Both shut their eyes and shielded their faces with their hands outstretched at the sources of damning scalding illumination.

"Kaiba!" A shout, unrecognizable and maniacal, called out followed by the rapid succession of shutters and flashes surrounding them. Yuriko couldn't be sure but it felt like there were hundreds of them. _So this is what it's like_. She was seeing the stars again-only this time it was from the blinking lights. She doubted Kisa was part of this mess. This was just crude media.

"What's your name, Miss? Are you dating Kaiba?"

"She's cute! Do you think she's more than a fling?"

"What's your name? How long have you and Kaiba been together?"

The dawning of the compromising position they were in slammed into her violently, surging her back to self awareness. They needed to get away. She hit his arm to signal for him to pay attention to her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him deeper into the gardens, away from the building and cameras.

"Do you know where you're going?" Kaiba yelled over the uproar of paparazzi as a chase began.

"No!" She continued to pull him blindly, as fast as her bare feet could take her. She dropped her heels aside to pick up speed, deciding the soft grass would suit her fine. Past some slender decorative trees and jumping over little flower beds Yuriko continued across the gardens, seeing salvation up ahead: A great hedge maze welcomed them with its ominous secrets.

"You're not seriously expecting us to hide in there."

"You got any better ideas? I'm all ears," Yuriko snapped as she continued to pull him. Despite his earlier protests he let her steer him along; the both of them falling deeper into the labyrinth.

The outside light was cut off as soon as they turned the corner, and they were running almost blind. The thundering thumps of their chasers had them continue their sprinting. No longer holding hands, Kaiba was easily gaining speed with his long legs and shoes. She was right behind him until he turned the corner.

When she rounded the very same turn he had disappeared. The yells from behind her had her continue to run anyway, regardless of being on her own. Her pulse was a bass drum in her skull, her breathing so rapid she worried her little heart would give out.

The air was pulled out of her as she felt her body lurch backwards. The cool leaves brushed against her bare skin as lanky arms encircled around her. She tried to fight, letting out a shriek as she was suddenly no longer outside.

 _A dark room. The smell of shit strong. It was her own shit. Her wrists were stinging with fresh lacerations from the all night tugs at the zip ties that cut into her skin. No light. Just her breathing. And then she felt his hands touch her neck. Her shoulder. Lowering..._

"NO-" Hands clamped over her mouth.

"Shut. Up." A hiss, not his. Kaiba. It was Kaiba. She wasn't locked away. He was helping her hide in the thick shrubbery of one of the walls at a dead end. The stench of sewage was gone. It was the earthy smell of dirt and his cologne.

Her trembling began to relax. She was okay. She was going to be okay. She tried to pull his arms off of her but he squeezed tighter at the approaching footsteps.

She saw a man's shadowy silhouette. He was walking right up to them. They were pressed in the corner, the shadows a flimsy cover.

He was looking right at them, a camera in one hand. He was breathing hard, too, but walking. He seemed lost and disoriented as well. He continued his trek, completely oblivious to his targets that were within a few feet's reach. He continued down the maze, shrinking as he continued deeper in.

She and Kaiba remained completely still until he turned the corner.

"You're not going to start breaking down when I let you go, are you?" His whisper was just barely audible. She shook her head, her nostrils flaring to breathe in. He let her go, and she sharply inhaled.

"Thanks."

"What the hell was that about?" His incredulous demand went unanswered.

"Let's get out of here." She no longer looked in his direction. Shame kept her focus on finding a way out of the maze. They jogged back where they came from, hoping to retrace their steps.

After sharp turns, a random dead end, and a turn around, they finally slowed their pace to a brisk walk. Both of their cell phones had no reception.

"Great. I knew we'd get lost." Kaiba had a wonderful ability to gripe and still sound condescending the entire time.

"At least we're out of that chaos." Her breathing was still hitched and a droplet of sweat ran down her temple from the exertion. Her ankles throbbed from the lack of support and her feet were soaked in grass and mud.

They continued walking for many minutes, finding dead end after dead end with frustrated sighs and the occasional smart mouthed rhetoric from her travel companion. She was becoming more and more aggravated with his commentary than the situation they found themselves in.

"Got any other bright ideas?" He threw in another verbal punch, to which she spun around and rounded onto him.

"I get it. You're tired. You're cranky. But you could have easily told me to piss off and let me go on my own out here. Like it or not, we're in this together. So stop complaining, because it isn't going to change or help." She was shaking-both from the cold and from the anger that radiated from her body.

He had become silent, folding his arms and refusing to look her in the eye after the lecture. His next words were edged and uncomfortable. "I have to piss."

Yuriko's cheeks went red and she quickly quipped, "I see." She looked away from him as well, hugging herself. "Go ahead then. I'll walk ahead."

"No. We'll get separated if you leave. Just... turn around."

Obliging, Yuriko did. The sound of water dripping onto grass was so funny to her. She couldn't help but giggle-only to be silenced by the growl that came from behind her.

"What's so funny?"

Yuriko just shook her head, shrugging. "Just this whole night." She heard the rustling of his pants and the zip indicating it was safe to turn around. But she only looked back up at the sky. The stars still glistened and beckoned at her. "I'm sorry I got you into this whole situation."

He cleared his throat. She could feel his arm graze hers briefly. "I'm used to it. But you're right. No sense in feeling sorry for ourselves. Let's get out of here." Kaiba went to the side of a wall and pressed into it, only to curse. "Figures Pegasus would make sure his maze wasn't just hedges. It's brick underneath."

"I bet the maintenance costs are through the roof." Yuriko joined him at the wall and felt the thick foliage that covered the walls. It wasn't very sturdy to climb up on. The maze was about ten feet tall. Not impossible to climb over.

"I don't give a damn about the maintenance," Kaiba snapped. "And it's not like the plants will support our weight."

"You're right." Yuriko sized Kaiba. "But you can support mine."

"Can you pull yourself up?"

"I'll manage. Just don't peak up my skirt." She was happy her skirt went just over her knees. But she tried to wrap them around her thighs still. Gratitude of the dark to protect the scars from being visible comforted her insecurities.

"Like I'd waste the time." He knelt down, his hands cupped to hold her foot.

"We have all the time in the world, toff." Her muddy foot was cradled by his large palms. They were strong and warm.

"Whatever, limey." He hoisted her up, inhaling sharply as he pushed her up to his shoulders.

"I'm not even British." She kicked up, both feet rested on his broad shoulders. Her balance was off but her hands grazed the edges of the leafy walls. She had a solid grip.

"Then why do you talk like one?" He pushed the bottoms of her feet up, helping her rise higher. She could poke her head out over the entire labyrinth.

"Wouldn't you like to know." She had elbows pressed and her chest and back strained as she kicked up the wall, her toes and balls of her feet scraping the course greenery and cement. She looked forward to the bath after this adventure.

"I would, actually. Sora Freud."

She hated how he said her name. He said it so ironically; sarcastically. It was like he knew it wasn't real. She had her knees on the wide top of the wall, enjoying the view. Security must have detained most of the intruders. A few stray flashlights shined in scrambled directions that resembled a search party. She called down, "The paparazzi are gone. It looks like they're trying to find us."

"Well what are you waiting for? Get their attention."


	6. The Discovery

"I'm terribly sorry for the lapse in my security." Pegasus bowed to both Kaiba and Yuriko. It was just the three of them in the banquet hall, as most of the guests had already left or were in the process of piling into their luxury vehicles to sleep off the fun night. A few guards walked by and two stood in tense posture directly at their host's sides. "Rest assured they will be dealt with. Severely."

"No worries," Yuriko held herself up with effort, not caring about the trail of caked mud on her feet and the dirty trail that had followed her from outside. She stood there with her itching wig feeling askew, her makeup smudged and Kaiba's jacket still around her shoulders that nurtured embedded leaves and twigs in its expensive seams. Kaiba looked slightly sweaty, his pants as filthy as her toes.

They both looked worse for wear. Kaiba was silently fuming, his jaw slightly clenched as he stared at Pegasus who continued to go on about the compromise in the security task force responsible for the night.

Yuriko was eager to get back to her apartment for a hot shower and her soft bed. She shrugged out of the jacket, patiently holding it out to him. "Thanks for a fun night. Later."

He turned his stare to the jacket then at her. "Do you have a ride home?"

"No, I planned on showing some leg and hitching a ride with the many eager frat boys lining up this busy street." She had rolled her eyes and was shuffling her feet. "I'd like to go home and shower now. Please, take your jacket and we'll go our separate ways."

"I'll take you home." Kaiba took the jacket but the offer wasn't much of an option. His tone declared she had no choice.

"No offense, but I'm all Seto Kaiba'd out. I'd like some peace at the end of a crazy night." She was being abrasive. But there was nothing else to do but express how antisocial and aggressive she could be. From what she learned about him tonight, taking a refusal wasn't one of his best qualities.

"No," Kaiba proved her point. "What if more of that scum find you along the way? They'll be even more forceful without me there. Even dangerous." A spark in his eye said more to her than his words possibly could. She didn't like that shimmer of opportunity that was reflected in his gaze. Maybe she was being paranoid. But she couldn't take that risk.

"Sora my sweet, why don't I let one of my drivers take you home." Pegasus came to the rescue. "It's the least I can do. And let me leave you a pair of slippers along with your gift bag."

"I'd be delighted, Mr. Pegasus. Thank you." Yuriko returned a smile to the gracious host, before turning to her evening companion. "And thank you, Mr. Kaiba. I'm glad we made it through the night with only a few scrapes and bruises. Safe travels home."

She walked away, following Pegasus into the foyer. One of the remaining staff from the party was awaiting them with a peach silk party bag tied shut with lavender velvet and a pair of plain baby blue indoor slip ons.

"After you, Miss Freud," a suited guard in shades appeared at her side, his head tilted downward. "Do you live in the area?"

"It'll be a bit of a drive. I'll tell you the exact location in the car." Yuriko looked over her shoulder one final time, seeing Kaiba approach her and within ear shot.

"I'd like to see you again."

"Maybe we will." She slammed the door on the little voice that begged to give this a chance. Yuriko stepped back, a coy smile playing on her mouth. "Maybe we won't."

She and her driver left the mansion, climbing into the back of the car which she noticed came with tinted windows. For little luxuries she was thankful. As soon as the door slammed shut she fell back into the soft leather plush upholstery and shut her eyes tight. "Domino city. Downtown, please." She'd get a cab to her actual apartment. She didn't want to have anymore compromises to her secret. _What am I doing?_ She hushed her thoughts as she checked her phone.

She had service shortly after pulling from the estate. Her phone exploded with notifications. Kisa's many texts all expressed concern and pleads to let her know when she got away. It was going to be a long work day in store for both of them. Ian, too, had voiced concern in the form of voicemails, texts, and missed calls.

An unrecognized text made her heart froze. It had a simple message.

 _'I recommend a second phone, Sora. 3 Max. BTW give K a chance. He needs to get laid. ttfn'_

She let her head fall back to the headrest and she sighed loudly again. "How did he get my number?"

"I'm sorry, miss? Everything all right?" The driver called behind her as their eyes locked in the rearview mirror.

"No, nothing. Just thinking aloud."

He grunted in polite response as he sped down the highway.

(Undercover)

Seto Kaiba loosened his bow tie as soon as he crossed the threshold to his own mansion. He doubted any dry cleaner would salvage his opulent tux. He'd probably throw it out after the night it went through. It was very late, but he knew Mokuba was still awake. He crossed the foyer, going down the west wing toward the boy's bedroom. The light seeping through the cracks confirmed his suspicions. Slow alluring music was playing faintly. He knocked, calling out, "Mokuba."

He heard a muffled girl's gasp followed by his little brother yelling, "Shit!"

Seto kept his face firm and expressionless. He was well practiced, even for the most surprising and traumatizing of events. Tonight had been taxing as it was. But this was almost certainly the straw that was breaking his back.

The door opened just a crack, his now twenty year old brother- _-Jesus, he's a young man now. Of course he'd have a girl over_ -with thick mop of hair even more unkempt was just barely peaking past the door.

"Hey, Seto. Sorry. Uh..."

Kaiba smirked, turning away. "No worries. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Hope you're being safe."

Mokuba made an embarrassed noise before shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. The older Kaiba brother couldn't help but chuckle as he walked away. Despite how he wanted to tell of what had just happened, he was overcome with sensations of discomfort and a new sense of pride. His little brother was finally out of his innocent shell. He was wondering how long it had been going on. Probably not that long, judging by the shade of red he left his sibling.

Alone with his thoughts, especially after events such as tonight, were always dangerous to his mental health. He was aware of this. But he didn't particularly care. He went to his own bedroom across the mansion in the opposite wing. He needed a long shower. And then he knew he probably wouldn't sleep much. If at all.

 _Sora Freud. There was no way she was related to that group of Freuds_ , he surmised. And her Japanese was flawless, like she had lived in Japan her whole life. It was her English that had the fractured accent, surprisingly. She must have been raised in the country.

But she definitely wasn't Japanese. Tracking her wouldn't be too hard. If Sora was her real name, that is. He doubted it was. He smirked at what she had told him. Writer. She was a writer. That had been the truth. He could tell by how she had looked him in the eye. How she spoke fondly of Nietzsche, Joseph Pulitzer, and Rumi.

 _"Fiction. Non fiction. Fantasies of mine. Biographies of others. I do what I need to pay bills."_

She hadn't seemed to be interested in him, particularly. One of the reasons he was drawn to her was that she had been blissfully oblivious to the severity of his company being that of a status symbol. She just came and went like a leaf that was casted about by a random breeze. She had been genuinely enjoying her time, not trying to schmooze with the big money or strategize a network with influential duelists.

She had helped out a friend of hers. But that was her only motivation. He didn't doubt she held selfish motives. But he felt no manipulation directed toward him.

As he stood underneath the searing hot water of his shower, he wandered in his mind of what had happened earlier. When he had grabbed her in the maze, she fought him-with all the petty strength she could muster-and her pulse had quickened to the point he feared she was about to have a heart attack. She had been horrified. Physical contact targeted toward her at all, in all intimate settings he had shared with her, she tensed and resisted as politely as possible.

A brief consideration that she was possibly witness protection crossed his mind. He didn't dismiss it completely. She was afraid of something. A man, particularly. She had been hurt-terribly.

Her soft lips captured his focus. Her large eyes, bright and intriguing. He never knew an earthy resin color could be so electrifying. He had recalled the faintest hairs on her arm had been pure white, though. Her eyelashes, darkened by mascara, seemed much lighter than her hair. She must be a natural blonde, he decided, and his blood grew hot at the thought. He loved blondes.

He blamed the sudden heat to having stood in the shower for far too long. He finished rinsing off, finishing his shower while continuing his actions mechanically while his thoughts continued to run free. She robbed his attention, for the time being. He didn't want to think about the last time his attentions had been so heavily focused on one particular subject or matter. Not since his decision to expand to opening a Duel Academy. Not since his wish to defeat Yugi Moto. Not since he decided to take over Kaiba Corp. And now, it seemed a new goal was in the making. Like an assembly line had cranked up to full speed, assembling his new purpose.

She had exuded a level of confidence he found fascinating. And she shamelessly skipped around his direct interrogations. She didn't fear him, just his physical contact. And it seemed she wanted more than anything to keep her very identity to herself.

He wanted to know everything about her.

Who she was. Where she was from. Why she was hiding. What had happened to her. When did it all start? How did she come to be at the gala-questions that he couldn't help but raise.

For some strange reason, he felt like he had met her before. But he chalked that up to having spent too long with superstitious company. It was Moto's belief in fate that was rubbing off of him. He needed to seriously detox from the dweebs. The gala alone had resurrected the many memories of those days when Pharaohs were possessing high school students and prophecies just happened to involve him. It was all superstition. None of it was real. He had to remind himself it was hocus pocus.

But she was real. Her persona was a false goddess. But he would uncover the truth.

He sat at his desk, beginning his work.

(Undercover)

Yuriko groaned while rubbing her temples. Her head was pounding with the lingering hangover. She hadn't taken enough water before bed and was paying for it. Royally.

Her hair was frazzled in a lazy ponytail behind her. Her smudged glasses covered bloodshot eyes. She looked as bad as she felt.

Kisa poked her head above the cubicle wall, her eyebrow raised in concern. "Hanging in there?"

"Barely." Her voice was hoarse, too. She felt like she was coming down with a cold. "How was the rest of the night?"

"You mean after disappearing with-" Yuriko pressed her finger to her lips in a warning to hush. She waved at her friend to come over. Kisa eagerly climbed off her table in the office space next door and scrambled into her tiny cube. She leaned in and eagerly whispered, "-after you disappeared with Mr. Billionaire?" Yuriko nodded. Kisa smiled widely. "First, tell me what happened! You both ran off like in a Greek fairytale."

Before Yuriko could open her mouth the thundering boom of "ADACHI! HOSHINO! MY OFFICE!"

Both women traded looks before carefully making their way to Mr. Marukai's office. The thick plumes of smoke spreading from the doorway indicated he was in his nest. And his feathers were ruffled.

"Yes, sir," Yuriko entered first, bowing her head in wait.

The sound of a stack of papers landing on a wooden desk in a puttered thud had her look up. She inwardly groaned at the close up of her-Sora's-face beside another cropped portrait of Seto Kaiba. KAIBA'S NEW BEAUTY, A ROSE WITH THORNS. A very unbecoming image of her with face knit tight with desperate rage complemented the caption with another headline: DUEL MONSTERS CHAMPION AND BILLIONAIRE'S MYSTERY WOMAN.

"Why wasn't Sakura Star the first to put out any info on this story?" Mr. Marukai's eyebrows were furrowed and twitchy, his nose pink and porous. He looked sleep deprived and angry.

"Sir, we thought the focus had been on the big names and people that mattered. This woman was just at the party. She isn't anyone worthy of the attention." Yuriko kept to the talking while Kisa withered in fearful agony. The girl couldn't handle the scrutiny of their bipolar boss gracefully.

"Oh? So you did speak with her! Who is she?"

"Her name is Sora Freud. She's... an acquaintance of mine." Yuriko kept her face a statue. She prayed that her tingling lip didn't twitch to reveal her discomfort.

Marukai leaned back with a gaped grin. "So you know her! Don't dismiss this story, Adachi. This is gold. Kaiba hasn't had any indication of being with a woman in years. This is bigger than some boring comments from Duelist has-beens or plans for some frivolous school. Kaiba is still a hot topic. I want you to get her in for an interview."

"Sir!" Adachi blurted out in protest. Her face grew pink and she treaded carefully for the next words to be said without disrespect. "Ms. Freud does not want involvement with the media. She values her privacy."

"How do you know her, then?" Marukai exasperated while burying his third cigar in the overflowed ashtray. He reached for another.

"A family friend."

"Your connection to the party, am I right?"

She nodded, her teeth grinding together. She was getting shoved into a corner.

"Call in a favor. The Sakura Star could be the only source to provide the insight of the girl."

"Sir, what if I privately interviewed her and she chose what information to disclose? It would keep positive relations with her-especially if later down the road her relationship with Kaiba becomes something more." She couldn't believe she was making such promises. She was literally saying she had a chance with Seto Kaiba. It was laughable if she hadn't been so desperate. She wasn't sure how her boss would react if he discovered she was Sora Freud.

Marukai made a noise through his nose as he contemplated her offer. "You seem particularly protective of this girl. If you can provide an article that will sell more magazines and capture the attention of our readers, then you can disclose as little information as possible to get that job done."

"Thank you, sir." Adachi lowered her head. "I also spoke with Maximillion Pegasus. He is interested in an exclusive interview as well. And with Kisa's vast collection from last night, this next issue will be one to be proud of, I promise."

The old man inhaled a deep puff from his cigar and his eyes drooped. "I expect no less. Keep me updated on the status of that Freud girl."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as Yuriko and Kisa left the room both girls turned to each other with solemn slumped shoulders. "What are you going to do?" Kisa asked incredulously, pulling stray hairs behind her ear. Her fingers were fidgeting still.

"Interviewing Sora Freud. I don't think I have much of a choice. If I don't, Marukai will be very upset and see the refusal as a sign of not prioritizing my work."

"But it's a conflict of interest, isn't it?"

"That's exactly what our job thrives on. Conflicts that interest the masses." Yuriko's hands were wringing each other and she forced them to her side. She had to be more composed. She couldn't expose herself to be so insecure. But the whole situation made her uncomfortable. "Let's get back to work. Focus on the interviews from last night. I'll take care of Pegasus and Sora."

"Okay. Thank you, Yuri." Kisa took her hand and squeezed it. "For handling Mr. Marukai. And for all the help yesterday."

"Don't worry. We help each other out. That's what friends do." Yuriko squeezed her hand back before leaving to get back to her computer. She had work to do.

(Undercover)

He was back.

The rich orange and browns of dirt and sand stretched across the horizon as far as he could see. It was approaching sunset-the lower star's light seemed to radiate and magnify the rolling dunes to shine like gold.

He had only visited this place in confusing disillusioned visions. Hocus pocus magic tricks by all the Egyptian foreigners that he had met in his time championing the duel monsters game.

Now, he stood atop the dunes where off in the distance the little geometric boxes and prisms of organized symmetry had been arranged in a neat set of rows and clusters.

He still held so much skepticism in what he was experiencing. It was all just a dream. A dream he'd eventually awaken from-but a dream he would always recall and relive.

He stepped into the sand. His feet sinking into the hungry grains of sand like he was in water.

He was swallowed up before he could react.

He was falling. Falling in a pit of darkness.

He smelled fresh meat roasting on a fire. He heard peculiar music full of tang and allure nearby.

He was on his back, looking up at the little twinkling dots of light that glittered across the black sky. Papyrus leaves were all around him. The cool air and the soothing roar of the Nile was very close. Laughter. Clapping in rhythm.

He sat up, finding himself at the edge of a great festival. Fires roared upon torches and a great bonfire in the center. Great golden idols were being exalted. Many livestock had been slaughtered and were currently hanging on spits over cooking flames.

The people there were faceless. Ambiguous entities of anonymity. Brown skin, black hair on some, dark eyes lined with black or green paint. Yet completely unrecognizable.

A ghost girl was among the festivities, dancing to the music. She was adorned in feathers and silver-not a speck of gold touched her. She was like a pure white dove with the blue eyes. A smile was played on her pale lips as she spun and danced to the music.

The great blue eyes glowed and the blinding light transformed into the shape of a great dragon. The familiar roar of his dragon ripped into his ears.

He awoke with a jolt, the noise still ringing away in his skull. He was shaking and covered in a frigid sweat that soaked through his clothes. He was safe in his bed. It was only three in the morning.

Not wanting to try to sleep again he threw the covers off.

It had been a long time since he last dreamed about that world.

He still refused to acknowledge that part of his supposed past life. Despite the pleasant swell in his chest at seeing her-he blamed it on chemical imbalances in the brain. He had been so immersed in work and now spending some extra time trying to find the Freud girl resulted in his sleeping habits going even worse. And he had drank scotch on an empty stomach the night before. There were a lot of poor choices he had been making lately.

That was all the rational excuses he needed to cast aside the surreal fantasy back in the little closet he kept locked tight in his mind.

Taking the damp night shirt off his chest he went to go open a window. The cool air was heaven on his moist skin. He sharply breathed in and slowly exhaled to calm his quickly beating heart.

His eyes landed on the laptop resting at the foot of his bed. He had done some last minute investigating the night before. Other than what he already knew from Pegasus' banquet, Sora Freud was more a new face than a known personality, socialite, journalist, or anything of the kind.

She had just appeared that night. And she was causing ripples to spread in the stagnant water of his self control. The less he discovered the greater his need to learn about her.

The mystery was overwhelming his fascination into a morbid obsession. It made him feel almost desperate. But he refused to stop. He could of if he chose to. He always had the choice.

He chose to want her. And he would choose to find her.

He took his laptop, opening it and began with checking his emails. His publicist seemed to have discovered something and sent him two emails.

The first had the basic articles-all the information obtained from the tabloids. Attached were the sources, the original drafts, and locations for as much film with images of Sora Freud burned in memory into the dark plastic.

The second was a lot more interesting.

Apparently a magazine had managed to quote Sora Freud in greater detail than the other media sources. The article wasn't even published yet-it was due in a few days. As he read the rough draft a twisting sensation in his throat grew. It didn't sound like some speculation or fake. She really existed. Someone got her to talk.

Looking at the author's name his mind was smokey and electric with intent.

 _Yuriko Adachi._

He was going to pay the Sakura Star a little visit, he decided.


	7. The Accident

Hell hath no fury...

...Like a Thursday morning with a Notu Marukai who ran out of cigars.

Yuriko had been scrambling about but her articles were still not properly edited. Despite this, she had more important things to do.

Such as making sure that her emotionally unstable boss had no stressors until his personal assistant came back with his particular favored brand. Romeo y Julieta 1875. Hand rolled and smooth.

She would never understand logo loyalty. Then again, who was she to judge? She ate at the same ramen bar for more than ten years.

"Adachi!" The familiar demanding plea of her senior supervisor had her freeze in mid stride, perform an 'about-face' and power walk back into his office. She barely crossed the threshold before the onslaught continued.

"Yes, sir?" Paralysis trapped and encased her like a fly on tree sap. Her words all crashed into her brain like a literary mass car accident. The clot along the cerebral highway was a violent wreck that continued to pile up.

A nightmare. She was trapped in an ironic nightmare.

White trench coat that defied gravity. With black on black on black. Black turtleneck. Black leather pants. And black leather straps on his upper arms and along his boots. _Seriously? Why hasn't he changed that getup? He was wearing that getup since I was in high school._ The 'KC' glimmering in the light.

Her mouth had been hanging open. She closed it and nervously readjusted her silver rimmed glasses. She was so happy she didn't try to wear contacts today.

 _Manners! Don't piss him off. He doesn't know who you are. Just. Act. Natural._

"Good morning," Adachi bowed keeping her tone pleasant and gentle. _OhthankGodIcanactnatural._

"Morning. Are you Yuriko Adachi?"

 _HE'S ONTO ME! HOLYFUUUUUUUUUUU-_ "Yes, sir. How may I help you?" She kept her smile plastered but the itchy twitch in her right cheek muscle had her worry. She felt sure that she had the look of a neurotically maniacal ostrich.

"I'm trying to track down Sora Freud. My sources informed me you would have the information to get a hold of her."

Adachi's smile slackened and she did little to hide it. Her eyes flashed to Mr. Marukai who watched her intently. It seemed she was on her own to make the decision.

"With all due respect, Mr. Kaiba, I cannot give away personal information with the people I interview. I'm sure you understand the compromise to their privacy and safety would be unethical."

" _I'm sure_ I can persuade you that her privacy and safety won't be in jeopardy." Kaiba looked far from deterred. Thankfully, he showed no indication of menacing spite or even a hint of the cruel abrasive demon he could be. Standing tall with smirk on his strong face, he was all business. And he seemed to be in good spirits. "What are you doing for lunch today?"

Yuriko did a double take. Her eyes darted from her boss to her opponent. _Damage control. Keep your distance._ "I regret to say I have an appointment for this week's publications." It was a bold faced lie.

"Cancel." Mr. Marukai gave the order. She looked at him with subtle frustration and widened eyes.

"Sir. What about the-"

"I said cancel. You will attend to Mr. Kaiba. He was gracious enough to visit our offices, after all. And he asked specifically for you. You should be honored." Mr. Marukai, despite the lack of smoking Havana cigar in hand, remained the modicum of courtesy. Yuriko felt defeat deflate her. Shoulders slumping, she shut her eyes and sighed.

The pang of desire to tell them how much 'honor' was really had raced through her wishes. But she had no guts to express it. She'd leave the carefree give-no-fucks and smartass remarks to Sora.

She remembered who she was and what she was. She needed to remind herself right there, otherwise she was going to step out of line. _Just go along with it. For now. Buy some time and figure out a way to fix this._ She bowed again. "Forgive me, Mr. Kaiba. I would be happy to have lunch with you today."

"12. Kumo's. Don't be late." Kaiba left the office without another word, closing the door behind him. She smelled the lingering cologne and memories from the gala flooded her thoughts.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Adachi?" The onslaught resumed. Marukai was slamming his palms on the desk while spit flung out of his mouth as he passionately ranted. " _The_ Seto Kaiba gives you the opportunity of a lifetime-think of all the readers who would love the inside scoop on the guy! And you play hard to get?"

"Sir, he wants me to give personal information without consent to the person in question. That's more important than just hearing another self entitled card game player talk about his life."

"What?!" The scream had a shrill pitch at the end in disbelief. She had stepped out of line and it wasn't even ten in the morning yet. "What has gotten into you, Adachi?!"

"Protecting a poor girl from an eccentric master manipulator. Seto Kaiba is well known for a lot of things. Controversial things. Whatever he wants from Sora Freud-it can't be any good."

"It doesn't matter. Just give him her number. Or email. Hell, if you give her address, as long as he provides an exclusive interview I give you full permission."

"Sir, you do remember about lawsuits and our company's violation of privacy policies. We may be just some gossip column. But we have some code of ethics."

"If the price is right, no one has a code." Marukai leaned back in his chair and shook his head at her. "One day you'll realize that, Adachi. And Seto Kaiba can offer a million times more than the right price."

Wallowing in the futility, Adachi's slumped against the wall and she tilted her head to admire the drab carpet. "Yes, sir." She shouldn't argue. "I'll make sure Seto Kaiba leaves happy."

Satisfied, Marukai dismissed her. As soon as she left the office she quickly left the floor, getting into the elevator and made her descent to the lobby below. Alone in the enclosed space she covered her face and felt the heat burn in her eyes and the water works began. She kept her breathing controlled and fought off the sobs that burned in her lungs.

 _Fuck._

She straightened herself as she arrived at the ground floor. She masked her expression, making her face relaxed. Passive. Without passion.

And then the idea crossed her mind. She dismissed it quickly but then called it back. _It may just work._ She checked her watch. She had a little over two hours. She could make it.

(Undercover)

 _She's going to be late._ Kaiba looked at his Rolex again, clearly agitated. He sat at the secluded table by the window-a spot envied by the other guests at the restaurant. He had a view of the great fountain and Chinese maple leaves outside.

The white haired doppelganger was just a coincidence. When he saw Adachi face-to-face he had been disturbed by her resemblance to the Egyptian girl from his dreams. It had taken him on a strange loop. He was caught between talking with her more and finding more about Sora Freud. He wanted to do both.

But he chose the tangible, rational objective. Some pale girl that may or may not be part of some superstitious mythological mumbo jumbo was not even on his priorities list.

He hadn't touched the glass of water in front of him. The condensation was collecting and dripping down the stem of the glass.

A figure stopped by his table. He thought it was the maître d'. He looked up to tell him to come back later and he froze.

 _It was her._

"Kaiba." The much better lighting of the restaurant and sunlight made her look ethereal. The sun captured the amber in her eyes like orange gold orbs. Her black hair was fiery in the afternoon light. She wore a tasteful cashmere cream sweater and a brown plaid skirt. He admired from the corner of his eye the curve of her calves before they disappeared under the table. Her made up face was displeased. Haughty. It made her look like a goddess of fury.

"Now I'm fascinated. So that reporter actually _can_ get a hold of you, it seems." He sat back, his eyes never leaving her face. She was real. He could reach out and touch her. And she sat across from him at that very moment.

"What do you want? You're out wreaking havoc on the poor middle class workers. Leave that girl alone. Leave her magazine alone. I only went and made myself public because of the fiasco that night. I figured it was time to come out of hiding and let myself be known to the public. And Sakura Star is the only one I trust."

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. She was being dismissive and frank-she refused to look at him as she spoke. She seemed distracted. Her nails weren't manicured. He noticed the dark blemish of ink on her fingers. She must have just been pulled from work of some kind. She hadn't been lounging about in a luxury safe house somewhere, oh no. She, too, was a "poor middle class worker" it seemed.

His observation of her increased in magnification. He noticed she didn't wear a well known label of any kind on her body. Her outfit couldn't have been more than a couple thousand yen. And that was being generous.

She was no socialite. Seeing her again, sober and with better lighting, painted a new picture of her. No longer the privileged princess. She was the puny pauper.

She had style, though. A tasteful class about her that refocused his fascination. The more he learned about her the less he knew. But he was wary that she wasn't above lying to his face.

"Can't imagine you being so concerned for some tabloid writer." He believed she was a reporter as well. But there was no record of a Sora Freud. "Do you have a pen name?"

Sora sneered. "If I had one, telling you would defeat the point of one."

"Like I'd tell," Kaiba smirked. He was enjoying her defensive and angry behavior. It was cute. "It's transparent that you're hiding something. Something important."

"Important to me. How about you respect that," Sora took the napkin and placed it on her lap. It put him at ease that she showed no sign of storming off and vanishing again. "Besides. I am nothing to you. There's no reason for you to know my secrets. So let's just stumble out of each other's lives."

He grew nervous, the idea of her abandoning him petrifying. "Last I checked you stumbled across me. You approached me."

"And I'm sure you have plenty of fans and admirers who do the same. Only they're a lot more invested in establishing some relationship with you than I am."

"Then what were you invested in pursuing that night?" He was genuinely curious.

A crimson bloomed on both cheeks. She looked down and fidgeted. "I was simply helping out a friend from college. She's new to the world of journalism. And you dismissed her rather harshly."

"So you studied journalism," Kaiba's picture of her was being painted as carefully and quickly as he could. Her portrait's skeleton was completely. And now he was providing definition to the lines. Brush stroke after careful brush stroke.

She waved her hand away, agitation printed on her curved lip and scowl. "Please. Stop constantly trying to analyze and figure me out. It makes me feel like some animal in a cage to gawk at."

Raising an eyebrow and showing a slight smirk in amusement, Kaiba leaned back and admired her anger. He felt a little guilty putting her under his interrogation lamp as intensely as he did.

He observed as his silence unnerved her. A defined eyebrow (that looked tinted, now that he looked closer) twitched erratically while she began to drum her left hand's fingers on the satin tablecloth with such rude impatience he wanted to laugh and reprimand her at the same time.

Despite the lack of justification he was so damn fascinated by every action she did.

He blamed boredom. He was just bored. And maybe a little... curious with what secrets she hid behind closed doors and rustled sheets. Maybe both. He blamed both. He let his eyes wander down to her neck, admiring the collarbone meeting the fabric of her sweater.

She jumped to her feet and bumped the table slightly. The glasses toppled over with the ringing clank of porcelain kissing silver.

Her skin resembled a sun dried tomato, embarrassment completely manipulating her senses of cool composure. She was in no semblance of control-instinct appeared to take over.

"Kaiba, let's have a deal. I'll disappear. You stop asking about me." She was beginning to inch backwards with a frown imprinted on her mouth. Her hands were shaking slightly.

"What's in it for me?"

She froze. Confusion, skepticism, and an abrasive disdain emanated from her mouth. "I don't understand what you mean. I'll be gone from your life. The paparazzi will get bored. And as you made it colorfully creative and crystal clear last time we were stuck together I gave you more trouble than you wanted."

Kaiba's bemusement dissolved into a calculating and shrewd stare. He was far from pleased. "I've tracked you down because I don't want you disappearing. An idiot could deduce that."

Sora huffed and crossed her arms. Before he could get in another word she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Slightly dumb struck that this woman-any woman, for that matter-was just walking away from him had him trapped to watch her fleeing figure in a state of catatonia that fogged his troubleshooting thought process.

It hadn't turned out as well as he expected, he surmised as he got to his feet and went to chase after her. She had left her purse dangling off the backrest of her chair. He could at least return it to her before they parted.

He quickly reached the exit and saw her on the curb trying desperately to hail a taxi. An overcast was indicating a heavy rain about to hit Domino. He could smell the humid electricity about to onslaught the city.

"Come on!" She was muttering to herself as she raised her hand after another cab that whizzed by her in traffic ignorance. "Fuck!"

"That's not polite language from such a prim and proper heir to the Freud family," Kaiba was inches from her back, his whisper easily heard. She watched her narrow shoulders tense and her pale hands clench into fists.

"Leave me alone." She turned sharply again, her face merely inches from his. Her skin was paler under the cloudy sky. She suddenly looked familiar-a phantom in the back of his mind that he couldn't corner and label. The mystery only fueled his curiosity and growing desire to learn more.

"You left your bag," he handed it to her without a second thought. "You're lucky-I could have easily gone through it."

She trembled but took the purse gratefully. "Why didn't you?"

"I don't think going through a young woman's purse acceptable, even if she's a liar."

She stared at him in a newfound bewilderment but a thankful smile just barely appeared. "Well thank you." She looked away before adding, "I always figured you'd be an arrogant ass. But you're actually kind of... nice. But you're still weird," she was rambling and took a step back and lost her balance on the curb. She had stepped into the street.

"Careful!" Kaiba grabbed her upper arms and pulled her protectively back onto the safety of the sidewalk. "And I'm not the weirdo moving in front of moving traffic."

"That's-" A flash of lightning.

No, not lightning.

Cameras.

"Kaiba!" A male's voice called out as more white flashes attacked the pair. "Is this Sora Freud? How's your date going?"

More voices called out and thundering footsteps approached them.

 _Shit._ Kaiba easily looked over their heads but there were too many of them. He and Sora were completely surrounded, some of the photographers stepping into the street to get different angles of the couple.

Sora cursed again, trying to pull out of Kaiba's grip. He tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her close. "These guys can get violent. Stay close."

He saw her roll her eyes as she jerked out of his grip and slipped into the crowd.

"SORA! FREUD!" The yells had faded in volume as they followed the fleeing girl. She was shamelessly sprinting out into the street, running right in front of moving cars as she worked to evade her pursuers.

 _She's insane. She doesn't care if she gets hit_ , he realized as he chased after her. She was zigzagging through speeding cars that blared their horns as they nearly missed her and swerved to prevent the highly probably manslaughter that was about to happen on the streets. _She can't honestly hate me that much, can she?_

His heart stopped as he watched her lurch violently askew. She hadn't dodged well enough. The little silver coupe had squealed its brakes to stop in time but had resulted in a slower skid as it struck. She rolled up the hood of the vehicle and into the windshield, the glass slightly cracked.

She was sprawled, arms stretched out like a swan in flight, her head hanging off the side of the front of the vehicle. He saw a scrape on her cheek and blood dripping down her forehead.

He sprinted after her, aware that most of the cars had collected in a great traffic jam from the chaos. Already sirens were roaring off the pavement. The shutters of many cameras dug deep in his newfound hatred for the media.

"Freud!" He knelt by her and tried to feel for a pulse on her slender neck. She was very warm. He sighed in relief at feeling her heartbeat and seeing her chest rise as she continued to breathe.

Her eyes flashed open and she gasped in wheezes. The wind had been severely knocked out of her. "Don't. Touch. Me."

"You need professional help." He ignored her protests as he carefully felt her for any broken bones.

She hissed and croaked in a shrill cry, "I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME! PERVERT!" She sat up and tried to scoot away from him and press herself against the cracked glass of the windshield.

It was like she had burst into flames. He jumped at the accusation and stepped back, incredulous at the rage. She sounded hysterical.

"Kaiba! Is she okay?" The goddamned entourage of reporters and voyeurs had gone to him and proceeded to continue the onslaught of harassment.

Kaiba growled and pressed his emblem at the collar of his trench coat. His adolescent gadgets still came in handy, and he was thankful he never took out the audio transmitter embedded in his jacket. "Roland. Get us out of here."

"Sir," the welcoming voice of his employee was barely heard over the yell and cries of the paparazzi and the horns of the traffic claustrofuck that was building behind him. "A car won't be able to reach you due to a traffic accident."

"Then get us a helicopter. I want us out in five minutes."

"Yes, sir."

It couldn't have been more than two minutes before the sound of beating blades and the heavy wind from a Kaiba Corp helicopter arrived like a white knight to provide rescue.

The rope ladder fell down to a meter from the front of the damaged car. More roars and vocal protests from the tabloids were being drowned out by the power of the flying monster above them.

"I'm not going to molest you. Let me take you away from here. You need medical attention." Kaiba held out his hand and felt his optimism wither at her blank stare. She looked like being near him was the last thing she could ever want. Her hair was an absolute mess-her bangs lopsided, queerly. Her makeup had smeared and gave her a maniacal clown look. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to help."

She looked back at the growing crowd, all faces so angry and so hungry. She threw Kaiba one last cautious glance before taking his hand.

He pulled her up onto the ladder, letting her climb above him first. If she blacked out or couldn't finish the climb he'd be able to catch her and carry her the rest of the way.

As they made their ascent into their refuge the great machine lifted away from the crowds below. As soon as they entered the helicopter the sliding doors were secured and the high volume mechanical noise had muffled.

Sora leaned back in her seat, catching her breath and wiping away at some blood that continued to drip down her temple. He worried she had a concussion. But he observed no other injuries.

"Sir, the manor?" The pilot was a new guy-a recent hire from a mercenary company. The only complaint Kaiba had was the man constantly needed direction instead of having picked up on the habits of his employer. If Mokuba hadn't had been so goddamn paranoid of the autopilot feature he wouldn't have bothered with a personal pilot. Besides, he could always fly one if he wanted.

"No, Headquarters." It dawned on him that he was hiding her from his little brother. He couldn't take her to the mansion-it would raise too many questions. Questions he wanted to get the answers to himself before having to answer them.

They arrived to the helipad at the roof of the great Kaiba Corp executive building in a matter of minutes, Roland already awaiting below.

The injured girl-fuming, downcast, and refusing to look at him-had been silent and dismissive at his attempts to get her any immediate first aid. He had texted Roland to have a doctor ready to attend to her when they arrived.

The corporate building had expanded a great deal since his earlier years when he first took over the company: a few more levels were installed, the internal offices involving military weaponry was completely gutted and scrapped, and many different departments had been born and grew underneath the great company's many branches.

Not only was Duel Monsters a major facet of their focus for software and holographic development: They were developing advanced virtual reality immersion systems, refining the handheld gaming world to create remote projections throughout the world for interaction-the newest ideas were arriving almost too fast for him to handle. It was like every day his company changed its focus on another gimmick or trend.

And still, the company thrived. He didn't intend for it to stop expanding.

She refused to take his hand as she stepped down from the helicopter. Her hair was strewn about by the force of the air cascading around them. She had her hand pressed against the side of her head as though a painful headache was beginning to turn its ugly head.

Kaiba decided not to force the situation anymore. He led her into the calm of the interior, a sparkling clean room of crystal clarity and stainless steel. His office was all glass and rich blue carpet. White modern furniture and abstract art with hues of silver and sapphire decorated his place of work.

Already seated was a male nurse: mint green scrubs and black crocs along with the trademark stethoscope draping his shoulders. He rose to his feet at the sight of Sora, who stood with a grim frown and hugging herself. She looked cold but he dared not touch her.

She looked far off and vulnerable-a completely different way of holding herself then at the party.

"Let me have a look," the nurse coaxed at Sora as he took a penlight and shined it in her eyes. When he touched her she hissed and brushed from his fingers.

"Please, I'm fine. I don't need to be examined."

"You were hit by a car." Kaiba couldn't help but keep the sardonic exasperation thick in his voice as he folded his arms. He didn't understand where the difficult behavior was coming from. It was like dealing with a preteen Mokuba with the flu. Kaiba looked over at his desk out of habit-the sudden impulse to work had hit him. It was the room-he was overwhelmed with ritual of being productive that standing around and dealing with the idle distractions was unsettling for him.

"I said I'm fine!" Sora snapped. She turned to the nurse and back at Kaiba with the wild flare of a caged cheetah.

"Did you lose consciousness? You may have a concussion." The nurse tried to touch her scalp but she flinched again and backed away.

"Can I just get my bearings first?" She wasn't giving eye contact. She stared at the exit with a fresh hunger he understood. She was going to try to make her escape.

"Not until he decides if you should go to the hospital or not."

The approaching figure seen through the glass double doors caught Kaiba's attention and made his stomach drop in dread. The wild mop of dark hair and the jubilant swagger belonging to his little brother was approaching the office.

Already he could make out a raised eyebrow and curious lip bite on his face as he closed in to the door.


	8. The Brother

She recognized Mokuba Kaiba as soon as he reached the glass door. The jungle of black tendrils that were his hair was tied back loosely in a man bun, the only distinction between the Kaiba brothers nowadays. The younger Kaiba had grown a great deal; he was now more a twin than a little puppy dog. Most of his pictures were from years ago-he seemed a lot taller in real life. She could easily see the resemblance now-the face shape and sharp intriguing eyes (only they were a warmer shade of purple) were definitely genetics.

He had entered the office with an expression of completely confusion.

And Sora's escape plan came to fruition in cataclysmic epiphany.

This was her chance to evade the older Kaiba, as he was obviously taken off guard by the appearance of his younger sibling.

"What's going on, Seto? I just saw on TV that you were in some kind of accident?" His eyes wandered to Sora and they widened with more uncertainty. "Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine, Mokuba," Seto looked over at Sora before adding, "Just some paparazzi evasion."

"I see," his tone was thick with 'I-Know-There's-More-To-This'. "But she's bleeding."

Sora felt her own shoulders slump as she wiped the drying blood. It wasn't even dripping down her cheek anymore. Her scalp was prickling and itchy-she knew she had to take her wig off and do a more careful examination as soon as she had a moment to herself. Along with the head trauma her entire body was bruised and in pain. A dull ache had spread up her whole back and every step was exhausting. She knew she should go to a hospital. But the nurse was coming way too close to discovering-and potentially removing-her hairpiece. It was one of the last thing she wanted to deal with at the moment.

The whole incident was her fault. She had only escalated matters and made them worse. All because she had impulsively tried to flee from a threat that was more of a pest than any real damaging enemy.

 _I need to get over_ _ **him**_ _. Not every guy is going to be a monster like_ _ **he**_ _was._

"We're aware. She's currently being examined."

This was her chance. "I can consult my own doctor when I get home. Which I would like to do," she gestured to the door impatiently. "It's been a long day and I would like to collect myself privately."

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. His jaw looked clenched with frustration. "You should let the nurse verify you're all right first."

"I don't want this nurse. Thanks for helping me out there." She was already inching toward the exit without a care for subtle grace. "And I'm sorry for getting you into that mess."

"Are you going to disappear again?" It was an accusation; he looked at her with such malice as she had ever seen witnessed first hand. He resembled a frustrated boy who was not getting the new toy he wanted.

Sora forced a smile as her hand rested on the door handle. "That's the idea. As you can see, I'm a lot of trouble. So let's spare each other the drama and I'll walk out."

"Fine. Get out of here." He turned away, his eyes diverted away. She noticed briefly the long lashes of his eyes, the pout of his mouth, and she was hit with the strangest regret.

But she needed to get away. If she stayed any longer, he would possibly find out who she really was. And her whole life would possibly be ruined. He could have her lose her job. Or marked in the public. And that would be so much worse. No one would hire her. She'd be out on the streets in no time.

She opened the door and abandoned the office, the throbbing in her head beginning again.

As she made her way to the elevators a figure moved in the corner of her eyes. She turned with bared teeth to hiss and growl but was caught off guard to look up to Mokuba Kaiba.

"Please let me show you out. The building can get confusing if it's your first time."

She looked down the hall, noting the lack of signs to guide her way. She begrudgingly but politely bowed her head. "Thank you."

As he walked in front of her she studied the back of his head and his figure while they traveled past offices, break rooms, and adjacent passageways. She felt like she had landed back in the maze at Pegasus'; every turn would potentially take her deeper in or at a dead end.

"So how long have you known Seto?" Mokuba's question seemed more innocent small talk than probing interrogation.

Despite the wish for silence and quiet she was aware of the need for courtesy. She cleared her throat. She wished for a glass of cold water.

"I met him at the gala."

"Oh!" Mokuba turned with a look of alarm. "You're the girl that dragged him into Pegasus' garden maze?"

Sora rolled her eyes. "I didn't drag him. He willingly followed me."

Mokuba laughed. "I'm glad you two met again. He made it sound like he would never see you again."

"I wish," Sora muttered more to herself before feeling the blush creep in her cheeks. "Excuse me, that was rude."

Mokuba continued to laugh, stopping in front of a pair of elevators. "Don't worry about it. I know a lot of people that don't take kindly to Seto. But why do you hate him? He made it sound like you both got along."

"I don't hate him," Sora hissed at the explosion of pain in the back of her head. She was gritting her teeth as she gingerly touched the sore spot. It felt like she was swelling. She needed to hurry and change out of her Sora getup and Yuriko-fy herself to the ER.

"It sure seems like you do," Mokuba gave her a sympathetic frown. "Would you like me to take you to the hospital? I can drive you straight there."

"Appreciate it. Nothing against you, but I need to be on my own right now." She was wincing as the elevator plummeted downwards. Her stomach was flipping and turning. She forced herself to speak; to distract herself from the growing aches and pains. "I like your brother. But he's just a little overwhelming. I like my privacy."

"I see," Mokuba nodded before smiling again. "He tends to come on a little strong when he finds something to be passionate about. Once he sets his mind onto something, he makes sure he achieves his goals."

"I'm not surprised. It sounds like he worked very hard to get where he is today. It's very respectable." Sora internally sighed in relief once they made it to the lobby floor. The ding of the elevator was music to her tender ears. "Thank you for escorting me out." She could see the exit: more clean glass with silver handles and the promise of freedom.

"Don't mention it! Hopefully we can see each other again." Mokuba continued to walk with her in an awkward linger before adding, "Before you leave, may I get your number?"

Sora froze and turned to him with a questioning glance. "You're not..."

"Oh no!" Mokuba laughed and blushed while waving his hands wildly. "I have a girlfriend! I just thought it would be a good idea to organize a get together again. Maybe you and Seto could grab lunch sometime after all of this blows over. And I promise I won't just give your number to him. Unless you want me to!"

Sora wanted to impulsively deny and refuse, but reconsidered. Mokuba Kaiba was easily the more approachable heir to the Kaiba Corp. empire. Getting on his good side could be useful down the road. _He seems friendly enough_. Plus, he was another major celebrity with little interaction with the media. Managing an exclusive interview with him would be the story of the year. _I already got a second phone just in case. What's the harm in this? Not like he's going to hunt me down like his brother would._

"All right. But only you. Can you promise not to give it to your brother?" Skepticism was brief but strong, but she knew the dangers and decided she would have the upper hand even if her number was leaked. It all returned to Sora only. It was time to make some risks and give him the benefit of the doubt.

She wanted to stop slamming doors on opportunities in her life.

 _Baby steps_ , she told herself. Although the younger brother to one of the most powerful men in Japan was quite the baby step.

After she exchanged numbers with Mokuba she made her leave. She bowed respectfully, thanking him again. "I appreciate your help."

"Of course. Feel free to text me if you need anything." Mokuba waved before turning back to the elevators.

(Undercover)

Mokuba was sweating and forcing his breathing through his nose with little grace.

Subtle reconnaissance was a lot harder than he imagined, especially when in dress slacks. He was crouched behind a magazine rack, only a few meters away from his target.

Sora Freud. She was clearly hiding a lot. And the mystery was too irresistible to have simply stayed inside the building when she left. As soon as he felt the coast was clear he had made chase to follow her.

She hadn't taken a taxi. Instead she had made her way to the subways.

It was a curious thing, considering how Seto had made it sound like she had money.

The day after the gala, his big brother had told him over breakfast about meeting the girl. The elusive and fiery character that had helped solidify rekindling business relations with Industrial Illusions.

That alone, had seemed to put her in a good spotlight for Seto.

Mokuba wasn't sure why Seto seemed so interested in her. He didn't openly express it to his brother-but Mokuba knew him well. He had seen the signs and read the body language like an open book.

He noticed when his eyes would briefly wander to the TV when the news would switch over to celebrity gossip. Sora Freud had become a sensation overnight, not just to the CEO, but to most of Domino.

Mokuba had noticed the magazines haphazardly left open to articles portraying her picture. The seemingly distracted stare that would transpire over dinner. And just the blatant google searches that Mokuba had caught his brother in the middle of. This Freud lady had his big brother completely mystified. And it made him wonder. What kind of girl was she, exactly?

Sora Freud was clearly not in a good state as her scuffling steps and slightly wavering walk made Mokuba glad he decided to follow her. If she collapsed, he'd at least be able to get her help right away.

 _She's pretty_ , Mokuba thought to himself as he tried to understand what exactly made her so captivating to his stoic sibling. _She definitely has attractive appeal._ But Seto never seemed too concerned with looks. Seto Kaiba never seemed to have been taken by women solely on superficial aesthetic. _I bet she proved she was better than him at something._ The grin popped up without hesitation at the idea. He knew his big brother wouldn't be so captivated by just the typical gold digging bimbo. He always became interested when he was bested by someone. He hated losing.

She turned the corner and went down the stairs into the nearest subway station on the block. Mokuba scrambled to make chase, thankful he was wearing a plain hoodie and jeans. He fit in with the general crowd.

He could make out her figure in the heavy thicket of heads that were funneling past the sliding doors of a train like birds migrating into a tunnel.

Mokuba jumped in and nearly had a heart attack when he lost her. It didn't hit him that he was right next to her until he looked down. She was sitting with her eyes squeezed shut, clearly in pain and distress. His hair stood on end but he kept his calm as he turned away from her and walked deeper into the train car. He had almost compromised his position.

The target remained seated; slumped with her head bowed forward as though asleep. Her clothes looked dirtied under the fluorescent lights and her body moved with the momentum of the underground train.

He paid careful attention to where they were. He studied the illuminated map that was displayed above the sliding doors and familiarized his surroundings. It looked like they were going to a relatively poor area on the west side of Domino.

He kept checking on the target every stop to see if she would make her next movement. One of the last stops was when she rose and joined the crowds that left the subway.

In immediate pursuit, Mokuba had a sudden desire to double check that his cell phone and wallet were in his pockets. It seemed that she had taken them into a neighborhood where pick pocketing was the youthful sport and pastime. At least that was what his body guards used to tell him when he wanted to explore.

She entered a random shopping district, full of bustling elderly woman yelling out designer brands and promises of cheap deals. The smell of fried squid and sweets made his mouth water, but he refused to be distracted and pressed on.

She was easily maneuvering around the chaos of the marketplace. He saw her head into a side alley, which led to the entrance of run down abysmal restrooms.

The young Kaiba knelt beside a dumpster and looked around to ensure no one noticed him creeping around like some shady villain. It was late afternoon but the orange sun was still high in the sky and pouring attentive light down on the entire city.

He saw many women enter and leave the restrooms to the point that Mokuba wondered if she had possibly died in a stall and no one realized. After a few moments of internal conflict of panic or no panic, a young woman exited that stole his attention.

She wore the same clothes as Sora Freud-the skirt, the shoes, even the same handbag. But instead of the short black hair, long white locks fell down the girl's back.

Mokuba stood up straighter to get a better look. She turned and he recognized her immediately. He could make out just the barest glint of amber in the setting sun.

Holy shi- Mokuba ducked back down when she turned toward him. He waited while holding his breath til the count of ten before peaking again. She was walking away from him, the same posture, the same slight limp and slow pace. It was definitely her.

Mokuba immediately took his phone out and sent a text to her. 'Hey' was all he wrote.

He got up and jogged up to her.

As he approached her he observed her pause from her canter. He watched it as though the world had slowed down. Digging out the phone from her purse. Looking at the message. And glaring up apprehensively to the sound of his quick approaching footsteps.

Mokuba was already panting when he made it to her. He was still sweating. His heart was about to burst with the thrill and the fear of her wrath. But now he knew why she had been so afraid of getting too close to them.

"Hey," he greeted with a forced smile. He had to make sure to take care of this in house and hopefully salvage some good out of the mess. "We need to talk, whoever you are."

(Undercover)

Yuriko was wringing her hands as she sat at the table. Her esteemed guest seemed out of place in her tiny humble hovel, but his pleasant demeanor didn't show any discomfort.

Some tea had been served. The dry intensity of the situation wasn't missed on her.

She thought she had gotten away. She had taken a detour to a random public washroom to clean herself up and blend back into the masses. She had taken the bloody wig from her head, peeled off the wig cap, washed the blood from her hair, and expected to make a beeline to the nearest emergency room for a brief checkup. She would be home, in bed with some strong medication and distant memories of the day behind her.

But instead, a danger had found her. In the form of a lean bushy haired puppy dog.

 _What is with these brothers?_ Yuriko felt defeated and exasperated. She just couldn't win.

"Sorry again for following you," Mokuba sounded far from sheepish or sorry. He had an excited smile on his face, his tone quick and his voice almost higher in octave. Yuriko was starting to question his sanity. He didn't seem the least bit upset that Sora Freud was merely a ruse. He seemed overwhelmingly _happy_. She stared warily.

"I'm sure you're angry that I fooled you and your brother," Yuriko carefully treaded the conversational territory as she continued, "I didn't mean for it to go this far."

Mokuba blinked in confusion before realization reflected in his widened eyes. "Were you planning to hurt Seto?"

"No." Yuriko had her hands delicately folded in front of her. She was surprisingly stable, the tremors sourced from the pit of her stomach a mere memory from hours ago. "I'm a reporter. I work for the Sakura Star, a magazine that focuses on celebrity gossip and scandal."

Mokuba started putting little sugar cubes in his tea, the generous sweetening not a surprise. His grin had faded into a line of emotionless interest. "So... you were just trying to find some dirt on us at Pegasus' gala?"

"You make it sound like I'm some sketch voyeur. I've interviewed many duelists and persons of interest in Japan."

"And you had to go undercover to get anyone to talk to you. Doesn't sound like you're so credible."

Yuriko had taken a few aspirin when she brought Mokuba to her home. It wasn't helping much. She ran her fingers through her long hair, the sensational ache keeping her focused. She really needed a doctor. "It all started with simply getting into the gala. I was following orders for the magazine. An actual Sakura Star representative was present. I just helped her get a chance to speak with as many of the elite as I could."

Mokuba snorted and laughed harshly. "You think we're 'elite'?"

"Yes, you are. You'd be amazed how many people spend money just to read about your diets, your daily routines, what you look for in a romantic partner..." Yuriko felt like she was on a tangent and brought herself back. "I don't try to sling bad publicity on anyone. I simply provide as many facts that the person gives me and provides it to the public."

"Sounds like you're in the wrong branch of journalism, Sora."

Yuriko winced. "My real name is Yuriko. Yuriko Adachi."

"Right. That'll be weird to get used to. Yuriko. Can I call you Yuri?"

 _"I'm going to call you Yuri, my little maiden."_

Yuri fought the twitch that tried to surface in her facial muscles. "Sure. Mokuba, I know I have no place to ask this. But will you please keep this a secret? I promise I won't be involved with your family any longer, but if this becomes a scandal I could lose my job. My livelihood."

Mokuba had his elbow on the table and cradled his chin as he flashed a wild smile. "Let's not get too hasty. I didn't plan on telling Seto anything."

Yuriko could hear the bargaining glee in his words, all drawn out in a sing-song teasing. She relaxed enough to reach for her cup of tea. "What do you want?"

"My brother likes you. I want you to give him a chance and go out with Seto."

 _"You and I are going out! You hear me?! We are_ _ **dating**_ _!"_

The clash and dripping of lukewarm tea on her lap took her back to reality. She was dead silent.

"Yuriko! Are you okay?" He blinked in surprise, jumping to his feet.

"No. I won't. I can't." She croaked, fighting the tears that were threatening to break. Her mind was an overwhelming mess all of a sudden. The very idea of what she had gotten into had left her mind spinning. She was falling down the warped rabbit hole of despair. Mokuba Kaiba was the Mad Hatter.

"Hey," Mokuba had quickly went to the kitchen for paper towels. He started wiping up the warm water and gesturing for her to stand.

"I'm sorry," Yuriko stood up and helped clean the mess. She must have seemed like an unstable wreck.

"Is it my brother?" Mokuba's voice was gentler. Full of understanding. "Or someone else?"

Yuriko looked at Mokuba carefully. She didn't completely trust him. Not yet. He already had her most recent secret in his pocket. She couldn't give him her greatest. But she would at least give him some idea. He seemed to be capable of understanding her-at least a lot more than his older brother.

"I'm not ready to date anyone. I don't want to go in the details. Please."

Mokuba nodded, abandoning the soaked towels on the table in a messed clump. He wordlessly pulled her in a hug, squeezing her securely but gently.

She didn't feel disturbed by the contact, which surprised her more than the initiation of the embrace. She closed her eyes and felt herself calm down with ease. The only other guy that could pull a stunt like that was Ian.

"Will you at least not shut him out? I... I think you'd be good for him. Maybe you could just be his friend."

Yuriko pulled from his hug and looked him over. "What makes you think he'd want me around?"

"You kidding?" Mokuba sounded bewildered at the question. "I've never seen him so involved with anyone but me until just recently. He's completely taken with you."

"Why?"

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Mokuba winked. "Don't worry. Sora Freud is safe. And it's always good to have an insider on the other side of the media to be on our team."

"That's true. And it's always handy to have one of the highest in demand celebrities to provide continuous exclusives."

"Good thing I'm responsible for PR. Otherwise Seto would have a lot to be suspicious about." Mokuba looked at his watch quickly and gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but I need to head back. Otherwise, Seto will get all paranoid and think I've been kidnapped or something."

"That used to happen frequently, didn't it?" Yuriko remembered the stories she read when conducting her research on the Kaiba brothers. The poor kid had been taken against his will so often she wondered how he could be such a happy adult now.

"Yeah... until he decided I should learn self defense. And hired all the body guards. But he still gets so worried. There are a lot of crazy people who can hurt you in the world."

Yuriko couldn't help but smile at that. "It's good to know that people are still looking out for you." The realization that a kindred spirit was in front of her-who could understand her feelings a lot more than anyone else-hit her with a wild desire for him to stay.

The familiar pang of sore agony in her scalp reminded her she needed to go get herself checked out. "Mokuba, can we meet again tomorrow?"

"Sure! Lunch?"

"Sounds good. How about some place more conspicuous though?"

"You want to come as Sora?"

"Yes. But I want to go some place where no one would expect to see either of us."

"Okay. Do you know a place?"

"Yes. I'll text you the address." Yuriko led him to the front door and they made their goodbyes. When he left and the front door was shut, Yuriko sighed and began to get ready to leave for the hospital.


	9. The Recollections

Thank you for the review and the follows! It's been a while since the last update, I'm still active but just busy. This chapter is a little more development and fluff than action. Happy reading! Feel free to critique!

(Undercover)

Mokuba was pulling another all nighter.

The newest video game had been out since the day before and he had catch up. He sat in his personal recliner in the Game/Rec room of the mansion: a magnificent paradise for the young bachelor with all the money and time in the world. The great HD TV that monopolized the entire wall beheld the finest graphics his gaming system could provide. The side table held discarded wrappers from chocolate bars, a bowl half full of gourmet caramel drizzled popcorn, and a giant sealed plastic cup full of flat cola.

The scene consisted of Mokuba wrapped in a cocoon of soft blankets and contently mashing the controller. His sound cancelling headphones provided great audio quality while he yelled profanities and insults over the mic to his co-op players and rivals.

It wasn't until the end of another campaign that he realized he had been watched the entire time.

"FOR THE LOVE OF!?" Mokuba leaped out of his seat, scrambling after spilling the popcorn and dropping his controller. "Seto! How long were you there?"

His brother was standing at the doorway in his sleepwear. He had a bathrobe on, though not tied properly. He looked like a mess-his normally smooth hair was askew and uneven. Even in the darkened haze Mokuba could see the red veins around his irises. The heavy shadows under his eyes.

"Don't mind me. How's the game?"

"Awesome. You want to join?" Mokuba gestured to the other recliner that had hardly ever seen an occupant with the exception of the occasional friend that came to visit.

The hesitation was more than the curt 'No' that he was used to. He knew something was troubling him. Seto didn't normally try to find him at night. Usually he would simply work his worries away.

"Have a seat, big brother." Mokuba paused the game, took his headset off, and curled back into his personal nest. He had an idea what it involved. "Did you have that dream again?"

"I don't know why my subconscious is fixated with Egypt."

"We did have a lot of Egyptian magic to deal with back in the day."

"Come on, Mokuba. You know it was more tricks and shadows. Illusions. I still think we were slipped some hallucinogen."

"Right. I love how you're still in denial to this day. You saw the Pharaoh's spirit move on with your own eyes."

"I remember seeing a lot of flashing lights after a good deal of standing around and doing nothing. It was sheer boredom and imagination. I know better now."

Mokuba laughed, knowing it was fruitless to argue with him. He doubted Seto Kaiba would ever openly express a belief in magic or anything of the kind. "Well, tell me about the dream. Was the girl there?"

Seto took his seat and sighed as the plush leather enveloped him into a comfortable bliss. "She was dancing with me. We were at a banquet for the Pharaoh. Yugi's Pharaoh." Kaiba looked up at the ceiling with lips slightly parted at his reminiscing. "Her eyes seemed almost golden in the firelight. She was like the incarnation of a summer sky. The most brilliant blue I had ever seen. And she wasn't in rags. She wore robes as white as her skin and hair. It was like I was floating among the clouds in a field of sapphires."

Mokuba enjoyed moments like these when Seto would open up. He could be surprisingly poetic with his descriptions when he had his defenses down. He eagerly waited for him to continue.

"I was also dressed up. Like that priest Ishtar used to convince me I was reincarnated from. And we danced with the royalty." Kaiba put his hand to his forehead, his calm voice wavering slightly. "And then they all turned on us. We were suddenly being chased by hideous monsters. I don't know how but I knew they wanted to hurt her. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away. The ground crumbled under us and we began to fall." Kaiba's next pause was due to him smirking to himself. Mokuba barely saw it in the dim light of the TV. "She became the Blue Eyes White Dragon. And took flight above them all with me on her back."

"That's far out," Mokuba whispered as he sat there enthralled. "So you both escaped?"

"Yes. But suddenly lightning rained down on us. And suddenly... she became Freud."

"The girl from the office?"

Seto made a grunt to confirm the question. "She just appeared. Suddenly we were upon a bridge. The bridge was over a pit of snakes. I remember the sound. They slithered and hissed. I'm pretty sure they were venomous too."

Mokuba nodded while his mind went crazy with imagination. "Did you have to cross?"

"She had ended up on the other side of the bridge. I wanted to get to her. So I tried to cross. She yelled at me to stop but it was too late. I missed my footing and stepped on a weak beam. And fell into the pit." The elder Kaiba sat up while breathing thickly through his nose. Exhaustion was evident with his grunts and sighs. "I woke up shortly after."

"That's crazy," Mokuba shivered and wrapped himself back up safely in his nest of blankets. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. It's just a dream." Seto stood up and began to make his leave. "Sorry for disturbing you. I'm going back to bed."

"No worries. Good night, Seto."

"Good night, Mokuba."

(Undercover)

"That's all your life points," Ian declared in English as he collected his cards in his hands.

"Oh." Yuriko hadn't seen the final move coming at all and was still taken by surprise. She looked at her last monster and the magic card that Ian and placed down. "Well that was a lot faster than I thought. How..." _Crap, what's the word for that in English again?_ "unexpected."

Ian laughed, folding his fingers behind his head as he leaned back in a cocky recline. "I found some 'dope' ass cards in the US."

"Dope ass? I can't tell what's hip to say anymore. Did you at least bring me any?" Yuriko teased as she collected her cards into its deck case. They were in Ian's apartment: a nice two bedroom with large bow windows and a great view of the city. It was a place Yuriko loved visiting-and envying.

"Of course." Ian stood up from his cushion on the floor and went to a wooden box at a nearby bookshelf. "I chose only the finest cards for your dark spell caster deck."

"Nice." Yuriko eagerly took the container from him and began browsing the cards.

Ian collected the empty wine glasses on the coffee table and brought them into the kitchen. "So got anything planned for this weekend?" Yuriko heard the rushing water from the faucet begin.

"Just a few phone calls to schedule some interviews. I was planning on meeting with Pegasus this week."

"How about Kaiba?" The rushing water had some splashes thrown in the mix.

Yuriko jumped slightly. "What about Kaiba?" She didn't look behind her, but she could feel the probing stare of her friend.

"Oh, I don't know. Fancy balls?" Ian's tone was getting accusatory in a mocking overtone. "Lavish dinners?" His manner of speaking became crisper and neatly picked apart. The water stopped suddenly. "Wild traffic dodging and a daring escape by helicopter?"

Yuriko turned her head slowly to her best friend who had a shadowed stare to give her. She cast a meek grimaced smile behind her chewed lip and she shrugged weakly. _Damn. And I thought he just didn't see it on TV._ "I'm guessing I'm not getting away with not spilling."

"Uh doi." Ian walked around the kitchen counters with folded arms and made his way back into the living room. "So spill."

Yuriko sighed and stood up to slump onto the couch. She stretched out and began her therapy while Ian took a seat in an adjacent recliner like the dutiful therapist. "Where to begin? Um..." Yuriko chuckled to herself a little. "So Mokuba Kaiba knows Sora Freud is Yuriko Adachi. That's another story I'll tell, I promise. Anyways..."

"Start with how you ended up seeing Kaiba again so soon after the gala? I thought you two just got wrangled into a paparazzi showdown in some garden hedges. Not much second date material."

"They weren't dates. And... um. Well, apparently Kaiba's gotten a little fixated on finding out more about Sora Freud. Which-I'm not so sure why but he said he checked and found no history of the Freud family having a 'Sora'. I didn't think he'd do any extensive background check."

"That is strange. What did you do, spritz him with your womanly pheromones?"

"Don't even joke. No. But we talked about Nietzsche. That seemed to make us hit it off. He did make a lewd comment about bending me over a kitchen sink before that, though."

"He did what?!" Ian sat up straight with red fuming face.

"Shh, calm yourself." Yuriko rolled her eyes but had a comforting joy in her friend's eager defense. "He apologized afterwards. We butt heads a few times and then bonded over a German philosopher. And we seemed to bond over it. It's strange," Yuriko felt her mind glaze over as she recalled his downcast eyes that seemed to always stare in the distance. "But I feel like we had a lot in common."

Ian cleared his throat, his eyebrows crinkled in dissatisfaction. "Let's not forget he's a giant ass."

Yuriko looked at her closest companion. "He seems to always get what he wants. But he doesn't seem like a bad person. Maybe a little arrogant."

"Yeah. Keep hanging out with him and you'll see what I'm talking about."

Yuriko sighed while closing her eyes. "I think it's such a risk to be around him as Sora. But I've made a deal with Mokuba to make appearances here and there still."

"What for?"

"PR with Kaiba Corp. He thinks his brother needs a friend. In exchange, Sakura Star gets the first heads up on anything Kaiba Corp. gets involved in or the latest of Mokuba's romantic life." Sakura resisted the urge to giggle. "The last part's been great for the magazine. I've gotten so many props for publishing about his newest girlfriend."

"Now you're buddies with the Kaiba prince too? Look at you, you're so much more extroverted since I left."

"I don't think much has changed. I've just gotten pulled into a lot more drama than I usually get involved in."

"You usually make a point to hide when life gets crazy. I'm happy for you. Really. It's good to see you out and about." Ian looked uneasy as he dared to add, "Maybe you'll consider going to a professional now?"

Yuriko perked at the 'p' word, looking at him sternly. "I don't think I need that right now."

"How are your dreams, Yuri?" Ian stared at her with matched stubbornness. "Has Kaiba tried to kiss you yet? How's that going?"

She felt stung at his words but knew he was being simply honest and brash. "It's not like that! I hardly know the guy." She began to study her nails as she grumbled, "You don't even know the whole story."

"So tell me the whole story."

Yuriko felt at a loss for words. But she forced herself to speak. "I think there's attraction. I think he's interested in me. And maybe I'm attracted to him too. But I know I'm not ready to even consider a romantic relationship. But he doesn't know or understand that. And his little brother got involved with this mess when he followed me to find that Sora was just a wig and contact lenses. And I'm pretty sure Mokuba wants to arrange us to get together."

"Do either know about what... happened to you?"

"No. They have no idea. I was thinking of telling Mokuba."

"Don't. I wouldn't trust either of them. Even the kid. He's just some spoiled brat."

"He had suffered so many kidnappings in his childhood that I'm sure he would understand my feelings a lot better..."

"...than me." Ian shook his head and continued fuming. "I see what you mean. But that doesn't mean I like it."

"I know." She looked at her friend with sad eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She studied him. Strong jaw, pleasing lips, a strong nose. Fading purple hair tied in a topknot. Scruffy beard. He was such a comforting sight. But a barrier prevented her from any further desire than a close friendship. The same barrier she knew that would shield her from Seto Kaiba.

"I'm sorry for not loving you the way you love me."

Ian looked away for a moment, looking out at the evening city lights at his windows. "I don't blame you for anything. I should be the one to say sorry." He turned to her with freshly wet eyes that threatened to spill over. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you from what you had to go through."

Heavy guilt weighed in her chest as she sat up and went to put her arms around him. She, too, was beginning to get moved with tears. "It was all out of our control."

"No." Ian whispered in her ear, his voice cracking. "If I hadn't left you that night, you wouldn't have been taken. It's my fault."

"Stop it. It's not your fault." She closed her eyes tight, recalling that night.

 _Ian had been drunk. The smell of sake, cigarettes, and the taste of his sweat were so real she thought she was back to that cool winter night. She hadn't wanted their first kiss to end up like that. So she pushed him away._

 _And he turned on her with pain in his eyes. The yelling. The accusations. The pushing. And then the fleeing._

 _He had left her there, awkwardly among their peers and classmates in that karaoke bar. He had simply stormed out, thinking her rejection was deeper than simply wanting to wait til they were both sober._

 _In her sorrow she took complementary drinks from generous fellow patrons at the bar._

 _And she chose to walk home alone from then on. That had been the mistake. Her decision. Her decision to drink from a stranger's offering that had been laced with drugs. Her decision to be alone to think about what to do with her life. What to do with Ian._

 _And then the darkness rose up and took her away. Back into that tiny room that was as small as a walk in closet. The bindings that dug in her wrists and ankles. The smell of_ _ **him.**_

"Come back to me, Yuri," Ian's voice was pleading as he shook her.

She blinked back to where she was. Safety. Freedom. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

Ian shook his head in defeat. "If I could do anything to convince you to seek treatment, what would it be?"

Yuri forced a smile and shook her head. "I don't know."


	10. The Hangover

_Author's note: Hi everyone, thank you for your patience. I'm finally back and here to stay (at least til late summer of 2017). Work is an educational escapade of its own, but I've missed internet and access to a computer on the daily so hopefully I'll be updating more often since I have both. So this chapter is long and a bit experimental. I'm a little worried it's not going to be liked. I don't know if I'll lose you to the 'there's no way this would happen' trope. Please review and let me know what you think._

Yuriko awoke restless and staring at the off white ceiling. She had took a nap Saturday afternoon and had awoken to find it 8 at night. Her mind was swimming. She had the strongest desire to distract herself from her thoughts that were already roaming like wild fire. She considered working, but the sound of her primary cell phone gave her the opportunity she needed.

 _Drinks. Pls. I need a wingwoman. -K_

Kisa seemed to have already gone downtown and was having the time of her life. The reflexive decline was already in the works to be sent out.

 _Sorry. I'm already in bed. 3 Y_

But before she pressed 'send' she gave herself a moment to reconsider. How long was she going to keep turning down living a little? She hadn't done anything purely for fun in a long time. And she owed Kisa some quality time after turning her down and focusing her free time with Ian. Although Ian was her closest friend, there were times she wanted to just go out with someone else. There was always an underlying agenda with her seeing him. He was help. He was therapy. Ian was a solace on a deeper level than just drinks and jazz. Ian was safe.

She had been kept safe the for _so long_. And even when taken out of her comfort zone she had found that no real harm had been given unto her. No one confined her. She was discovering that she could still go about her day and not be hurt. _So what's the harm in this?_

While Ian was a reliable companion for the emotional solace, Kisa was purely superficial debauchery. And at that moment Yuriko craved that fix. It just so happened that Yuriko had a safety blanket she could don that would allow her to party without too great a fear of being a target.

 _OK. Can Sora come?_

The response was almost instantaneous.

 _Yes! Raving Riko. Txt when u r here._

Yuriko got up and went to her closet. She had tons of clothes from her college days still untouched due to her self-induced hermit lifestyle. Flash and sequins, dark bold colors, and showing plenty of skin, she chose her outfit and began to prep to look the part of a socialite out on the town for some dancing.

She had gotten another hairpiece after the traffic incident out of fear that the blood wouldn't wash. Both were fresh and carefully resting on their respective stands. Her newer wig had a slightly different style to it: choppier, wilder, extravagant with its contour and fitting for what she wanted to look like for the night.

Her normal appearance always had her feel like Hester Prynne from the Scarlet Letter. The staring and gawking wherever she went was something she never got over. A social outcast. A strange person in a foreign world. Despite how she was a Japanese citizen the feeling that she never truly belonged and would never be fully welcome clung to her like a shadowy funk she couldn't scrub away in the shower. She was always marked to be different-and she often felt that had resulted in her being the target of her attacker back then.

Ironic, that she felt more comfortable in scarlet lips and scarlet dress. Despite her bare shoulders, she had to ensure her upper thighs and stomach were carefully covered at all times. Looking at her disfigurement used to strike deep into her heart and paralyze her with a overwhelming dismay that would have her bedridden and useless for days. But now, they had become a part of her as the birthmark on calf and the freckle on her wrist. In the lighting of her vanity she stared at herself bare one final time before donning her frock and shielding her shame. She forgot the last time she had been with a man... willingly.

As she pulled the lacy satin over her scars, the badges of courage vanishing behind her facade of carefree spirit, she ensured her new hair was secured properly, the bangs covering her brows in feathered precision; her appearance that of a modern Milanese heiress.

Collecting her jacket and bag she called the taxi.

"I can't believe you're out here!" Kisa was squealing with joy as they hugged in front of the bar. Kisa wore the shortest pink mini dress, her gifted bosom almost busting out of her black lace bra. Her bleached orange hair was flat ironed down her shoulders and her makeup was perfect.

The dance floor was adjacent to them, a cluster of neon light pads vibrantly alternating cascading color with a subtly dressed DJ and strobe lights trying earnestly to induce mass seizures to the participants.

"It's time I got out of the apartment."

"Amen! First drinks are on me!" Kisa turned to the bartender and yelled in thickly accented English, " _Jagerbombs_ , please!"

Yuriko mentally steeled herself for a long night of excessive drinking. She hadn't gone hard in a long time. She already rued the inevitable hangover that was going to transpire.

Knowing she had to play catch up with Kisa, Yuriko happily took both drinks from her companion. She took shot after shot accordingly with Kisa laughing heinously. "How many of these have you had?" Her screaming was hardly recognized over the loud bass rattling the floor and walls.

"Five!"

"Are you kidding me?" Sora laughed as she went back to the bar. "Excuse me!" She tried to get the bartender's attention as he cleaned a glass with his back to her.

"No, excuse me," a velvety male's voice called out to her. _Oh no._ She recognized that particular voice and her entire body tensed as she slowly turned to face inevitable onslaught.

Tall, lean, with eyes as bright as green glass and that god damn eyeliner-or tattoo that traced down his cheek. He still wore an earring with a dice on it. But he ditched the headband, his thick black locks falling down his back freely.

"Ryuji Otogi."

Ryuji Otogi raised his eyebrow and flashed her a dazzling smile. She knew he was a snake behind those perfect white veneers.

"In the flesh," he smirked and leaned against the bar. "And you're Sora Freud, am I correct?"

"Yes. I don't believe we formally met."

"Sadly I haven't had the pleasure. Allow me to buy you a drink." He was curling strands of his hair around his finger flirtatiously. She remembered sitting across from him in his own living room-the way he would flirt and wink and quickly take over the interview with a fiery totalitarian control which had caught her off guard. But now she was ready.

She looked around wildly for Kisa. It seemed she had wandered off to talk to two attractive men across the dance floor. She was on her own.

Right away the thought of someone she didn't know getting her a drink raised a warning flag. She eyed the bartender carefully before turning on Otogi. She wouldn't be submissive little Yuriko about this. "How about the bartender I choose makes the drinks?"

Otogi blinked in surprise and then laughed. "That's fair. You never know these days."

"Good. I want her to make our drinks in front of us." She pointed over to the slim little female bartender who seemed slightly overwhelmed.

"She's a little busy, it seems."

"I've got all night. But if it's too much of your time then you're free to keep walking." She dismissed him after that and walked over to the girl bartender.

When she reached the other end of the bar she felt Otogi's presence beside her. "Can't say I've experience such dismissive behavior from such a fetching woman."

"Oh, you're quite the devil," Sora turned and winked at him.

"I'm not the lovely lady in red." Otogi seemed a little drunk, his green eyes glazed and his words slurred. It only fueled the resentment that had been building up since the interview weeks ago. _Idiot. Can't he tell I don't want to talk to him?_

"I think you're mistaken. I'm neither lovely nor a lady." Yuriko had turned to face him before the bartender arrived to take their orders. She decided to go top shelf on Otogi's dime. "I'd like the most expensive liquor you have."

Otogi seemed slightly put off by this, his teasing expression slightly stiffening. "A little unnecessary, don't you think?"

She smirked over at him, allowing the hatred to glow in her artificial amber eyes. "A lot of things can be _unneccesary_ , can't they?"

"I'm not trying to be rude, but have we met? Have I wronged you in some way?" Confusion danced on his dazed face.

"That's rich, Otogi. How about this?" She recalled the interview. "How about a game of 'Truth or Dare or Drink. I know you've got dice on you, big boy. 1 and 2 are Truth. 3 and 4 are Dare. 5 and 6 and the other player has to buy the other a drink."

Otogi's eyes narrowed but seemed inquisitive. "We have met, haven't me?"

"No. We never had the pleasure of each other's acquaintance. But a friend of mine did. And it sounds like you had her deal with a lot of unnecessary shit for her just to do her job."

Understanding sparked in his eyes. "That pale reporter. I'm sure a girl like you would understand. We get hassled by those people all the time. I simply gave them a dose of their own medicine."

"Handstands for information isn't much of the same prescription, Otogi. Roll." Sora leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. She knew she already played the antagonizing bitch. But flirting was always fun, too. "If you act like a good sport, maybe you'll get a nice reward at the end."

The booze and the buzz seemed to take over Otogi's rational thought. His tense frown had melted to the dreamy flirtation he was normally inclined to. "All right, love." He took out of his pocket a pink die with golden numbers. "My roll." He rolled and landed on a 6. "Your drink," he snapped his fingers expectantly.

Sora figured he was either playing with a loaded die or had some wrist flick trick up his sleeve. She paid for her shot and downed it like a champ, ignoring the burn of the whiskey. She took the die and began to shake it in her hand.

Before she threw down she ran her hand down his chest. "I want to make things a little more interesting. So for my rolls let's switch it up in reverse. 1 and 2 will be the drink. 3 and 4 will be Truth. and 5 and 6 are Dare."

Otogi opened his mouth to protest but she pressed her finger against his lips and hushed him. "Oh, don't be so upset. It's still a fair dice roll, right? I'm just switching up the numbers. What's so wrong with that?"

The dice master said nothing but instead watched sullenly as she rolled and it landed on a 6. Sora clapped her hands together in glee. She knew he had been cheating. The bastard. "Dare! All right!"

"Choose your punishment, Freud," Otogi had a bitter resentment laced with a slight amicable respect. "I admit, I'm impressed you caught on so quickly."

"It's not my first rodeo, sweetie," Sora pondered what to dare Otogi to do. Her eyes landed on Kisa and the light bulb lit up like Vegas Casino. "That harajuku girl over there. In the pink dress. I want you to ask her to dance. Show her a great time."

Otogi raised an eyebrow. "She's easy on the eyes." He smirked. "Well done, wing woman."

Yuriko winked back and handed Otogi a shot. "No hard feelings. Now excuse me while I make terrible life decisions." She downed her shot and went to dance. Already she saw Kisa and Otogi dancing, her body language showing she was quite interested in her new gentleman caller.

Despite the lack of partner she happily moved with the music, joining strangers in a giant tangled mess of grinding and wiggling around. She ended up with a few girls in Domino University from the same sorority she had been a member in. Lights and liquor made her entire existence a liquid that she swayed about happily. _I haven't had this much fun in years._

"Sora!" A tiny little freshman named Mimi called out to her. "Did you want to grab breakfast?"

"It's too early for breakfast!" Sora slurred as she checked her phone. "Oh, shit." It was almost 4 AM. The club was a lot less crowded than she first remembered. Struggling to keep herself steady she leaned against a table and let the world move all around her.

"Right? The bar's closing." Mimi was stumbling drunk as well, her body swaying as the DJ announced a closing song. Sora continued to check her phone and read the texts she had. Kisa had left with Otogi hours ago, with messages of '3' and 'THANK YOU' filling her inbox.

"Why not? Do you know a place?"

"Next block, Compton's. They open at 4."

"Perfect." Sora and her new girlfriends stumbled out of the bar and started walking. Sora noticed she was still staring at her phone. Her thumb was fiddling with the contact list. It landed on Mokuba Kaiba. "Should I call this guy?"

"Ex boyfriend?" Right away the group stopped and went to save her from making a terrible mistake.

"NO," Sora cackled. "Just a friend."

"Go for it, honey!"

"Okay. I'm calling him." Sora pressed the green icon to begin the call. She felt like she was on a little ship in the middle of the ocean as sidewalk rocked back and forth. Why did she ever stop doing this? She was on cloud 9.

Mokuba's phone was ringing on the island counter in their kitchen. At this early in the morning. Kaiba was already on his second cup of coffee, grimly staring at the vibrating and illuminating little smart phone with a disdain he couldn't place.

He thought it rude to call incessantly so early in the morning when it didn't involve anything important. And he knew Mokuba sure as hell didn't get phone calls from the company on his personal cell.

It had already been called three times. Whoever it was felt it urgent. But Mokuba was out cold in the game room, having stayed up as late as he could to continue his newest video game.

He had to at least check and see if it was from someone important. Maybe something happened to Mokuba's new girlfriend.

He went to the phone as it finished ringing again. '3 Missed Calls' it declared, as though he hadn't been staring at the obnoxious electronic for five minutes straight.

It rang again.

Kaiba went to pick it up. The caller ID only identified as 'S'.

"Yes?"

"...Who the _hell_ are you?!" The clumped Japanese was irregular and meshed. It was a female voice. Faintly familiar, yet the manner of speaking was completely foreign.

"This is Seto Kaiba. Who is calling my brother?"

"Oh, fuck." The hiccup followed confirmed his suspicion it was a drunk call.

"Are you Mokuba's girlfriend? I find this behavior childish and unworthy for a potential partner to my little brother."

"Oh, come off it, Kaiba!" He recognized her suddenly.

"Freud?"

"No, the Easter Bunny!" Freud cackled maniacally followed by girls in the background squealing and screaming. "Holy shit! You all want to talk to Seto Kaiba? Sure, here, take it!"

"OHMYGOD I LOVE YOU, KAIBA!" One girl's voice screamed in the background followed by another, "PLEASE FATHER MY CHILDREN!" Giggles and laughter exploded in his ears and Kaiba felt his face slightly redden at the brash behavior. They were depraved. Uncultured. Why the hell was Sora with these imbeciles?

"Okay, okay, give me my phone back!" Freud was laughing, more earnestly than before. Her voice grew louder as she took control of her phone again. Fumbling and clatter stung his ears rudely. "Okay, Kaiba. So I owe you an apology for being such a bitch when I was hit by that car. I know I've got issues. Anyways, are we cool? I was going to eventually say it to your face. And sober. Probably." She laughed again, the muffled sound of footsteps scraping against pavement made him assume she was outside. "Did NOT expect you to answer. Where's Mokuba?"

"Are you all right? Where are you?" His hand was clutching the side of of the granite counter, white knuckles glowing in the cold fluorescent lighting.

"I'm fine! Out with friends. Drinking. Being a NORMAL girl, for once. It's so awesome."

"Tell me where you are and I can have a car pick you up."

"Nope. Don't worry about me. I'm A-OK."

"Then why did you call?"

"I was calling Mokuba. I guess the cat's out of that bag." She hiccuped again, followed by another giggle.

A sinking feeling dragged his throat into his stomach. "Are you dating my brother?"

"Oh God No! He's too young for me! Also I don't date."

Kaiba's relief was snubbed by more confusion. "So how do you have his number?"

"Uh..." She seemed to wonder if she should try to lie. The hesitation was palpable. "We exchanged them. He's my kindred spirit."

"Your what?"

"He's my spirit animal, you fool!" She laughed aloud and Kaiba had a sinking feeling she had lost her mind. "I'm just kidding. He just gets me, you know? And being around him doesn't make me feel like a caged canary about to be eaten."

"I think your acting foolishly. You could put yourself in danger."

Her laughter was strong. "I've already experienced so much danger. But you know what? Nietszche was right. _The secret of reaping the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment from life is to live dangerously_." She referenced the quote in Japanese accented English.

He swallowed, feeling suddenly cotton mouthed and lost. "If you want to live dangerously why don't you come see me?"

Freud's sudden pause had frozen time. The wait was excruciating. "Fuck, you just checkmated me. You a chess master, too?"

"Actually, I am."

She made a 'tiff' noise, followed by the background noise of screaming college girls and beligerence. Cars were heard in the ambiance as well.

Kaiba decided to throw another line in the water. "Screw breakfast with those fools. If you want real danger, come to the warzone. I have a personal chef."

Freud laughed at that. "You sold me at warzone. For the record, they're not fools. They're my sisters. You ass." The last insult was in perfect English.

"Where are you, Sora?"

She stunk of alcohol and lilacs. Her skin was so red she looked sunburnt. _Maybe she is indeed Japanese, with that glow._ Kaiba stole a glance at her neck and shoulders, noting the patches of red all about in disorganized regions. He wondered if below the straps she was as red as a fresh apple. It made him feel warm at the idea and he cleared his throat to distract his thoughts from the brooding physical desire emanating from him.

"You're doing it again."

She was significantly calmer in the back of a limousine. They sat adjacent to each other, her in the far back bench seat. His arms were folded reflexively while keeping a straight face. Her red dress didn't help decipher what part of her was skin and fabric. Her lipstick was fading from lack of maintenance. A disheveled dame with ornery moods and an impish fidgeting he wondered was from nerves or some other underlying condition.

She had glassy eyes that seemed hazed and distracted. But her expression was calm and in control.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me like I'm a caged animal."

"You really like that metaphor."

"It applies to me a lot more than you think." She had an ominous stare and she crossed her legs after the statement.

He did his best to not blatantly stare at her curved calves, his thoughts far from pure.

"Why didn't Mokuba answer the phone?" She sounded genuinely curious, her hands pressed on her lap.

"He has a bad habit of leaving his phone lying around. You were pretty persistent with calling. Care to share what you wanted to tell him?"

"Sorry, but it's just between us."

"Then why are you here?" Kaiba was holding onto the resentment from earlier. She had been so calloused and cruel, casting his help and advances away without a second thought. No one just dismissed Seto Kaiba so easily. He rarely gave them an opportunity to.

"To live dangerously," Freud rolled her eyes as though the answer had been so obvious.

"You know what I mean. You were so adamant against seeing me ever again. And now here we are."

Freud turned to him. She tilted her head to the side and smiled innocently. "I'm trying to make better decisions with my life."

Kaiba snorted. "And going out and getting plastered is your idea of a better decision?"

Freud laughed and kicked her heels off, gathering her knees up to her chin. Kaiba looked away. He had captured a glimpse of red lace panties just briefly. And something else he wasn't sure what to think of. It seemed as though she had suffered extreme burns at some point in her life. Surprise wouldn't even begun to summarize his thought process. He suppressed all emotion and concealed himself behind his curtain of rational thought. He would continue to observe. _People get burned. People have scars. Probably just an accident when she was young._

It was very unexpected, to say the least. He doubted she realized what she was doing. Or her care levels were so dangerously low from her intoxication it didn't matter to her at present. But it would as soon as she sobered up. Her desperate need for secrecy was obvious.

She hardly touched the water bottle in the drink rest at her side. He had offered her plenty of it. She just refused to hydrate herself. He was sure in a few hours she'd be hurting.

"I just wanted to do more than hide in my bedroom, numbing my brain with stupid shows and rereading the same books. I wanted to get out and live a little. I wanted some fun. And I had a ton of fun."

"You don't have fun fleeing the paparazzi and running CEOs in tail chasing circles?"

"Not all CEOs, only you." Freud rested her head on the seat while keeping her eye contact to her new companion. "I admit. You're not at all what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"A sociopathic genius."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be. It's a step above what most people think," she shot back, unable to resist the verbal sword fight with him.

Raising an eyebrow, admiring his own self restraint and patience, he decided to humor her. "And that is?"

"Spoiled rich boy. With a silver spoon and caviar in his mouth."

"Actually, caviar would be ruined when in contact with metal. We use bone or mother of pearl spoons."

"Of course you do." Freud laughed, shaking her head. She kicked her feet down and shook her black mane wildly. "And you're a chess master. CEO. Duel Monsters champion. And relatively attractive. What can't you do?"

"Beat Yugi Moto in a duel."

The honesty was a bit of a sharp blow to the pride. But Kaiba had come to terms with it. He had to be second best at something. And the need to be the best had driven him to go at such lengths and do just about anything to win, short of cheating. But in the end, there were just some things he couldn't be best at. Some days, he still refused to believe it.

"It's a card game meant for children," Freud rolled her eyes. The dismissing way she shrugged it off upset him a lot more than her harsh vulgar words at his character.

"It's a complex strategy card game."

"It's a game."

"It's a competitive sport."

"You do not get a work out slamming cards down on holographic projection platforms, no matter how dramatic you swing you hands around, Kaiba." She sat up and swayed, clearly nauseous. "My point is, Kaiba, you own one of the greatest companies in Japan if not the world. You accomplished this before turning 20. You supported your brother and participated in so many charities and invested in helping orphans and troubled children. All at a young age. And what has Yugi Moto accomplished in the same amount of time? He's a nice guy and all, but he's only the best at a trading card game. Won some money in the process, helped his friends out, sure. But in the end, he works at a little game shop to support himself. What more does he do for the world? You contribute more to society than Moto ever did. Hell, you're the reason Duel Monsters is such a big deal. Aren't you the one who kept the tournaments going? And aren't you building a school just to teach kids how to play the game?"

Kaiba looked at her in surprise, the shock striking him in a conundrum delirium. He turned his head to hide his face from her.

"Stop the car," she suddenly demanded. She was pressing the windows down, a sudden urgency on her face.

"Why?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she opened the door as it was moving and pushed her head out.

"What are you doing?!" Kaiba demanded in worry as the driver noticed the door open and slowed down the car carefully.

Before it completely stopped, Sora Freud sprinted out of the car, tripping from the momentum and began to projectile vomit all over the sidewalk and pavement. It was like a frog croak, followed by splatters of acidic stomach content.

Kaiba sighed and stepped out of the limo. He knelt down to brushed the hair away from her mouth as she continued the audible purge. He patted her back and gently pressed the back of her head. He frowned, not expecting the cooler softer sensation on his hand.

"God, don't touch me, please." She whimpered and he released her. She continued her session for a good long minute. Kaiba couldn't believe how much liquid she had consumed.

After a few dry heaves later, Sora stood up and wiped her mouth. "I'm good from here. I'll get a cab home."

"No, you're coming back with me. It's not safe for you to be on your own."

"Fine."

The toilet was her friend.

The pristine white toilet didn't judge her.

The surprisingly welcoming pristine white toilet happily accepted all she could give.

Even if it was nothing but partially digested alcohol in an array of yellows and browns that fascinated and appalled her.

The heaving was never ending.

Her body was completely enraptured in the violent act of uproar.

The water she had just drank when she arrived at the excessively extravagant mansion was now in her porcelain companion.

She was now gagging and choking on an empty stomach.

She had nothing more to give.

"Thank you, dear friend," she spat into the buttbowl with a vulgar distaste at the state she was in.

Everything still seemed slightly unbalanced. She no longer felt like she was going to die in her own sickness, but the roaring engine of her brain was begging for Vicodin. Punishment and retribution had come.

She put the lid on top and flushed away the evidence from her night, looking at her watch to find it was almost six in the morning.

She wasn't even close to recovery.

Good thing it was a weekend.

She went to the marble sinks with glimmering brass faucets. The water had been running to block out the noise. The rush of water was soothing. A glass with remnants of water within rested beside the sink. She had made a mess of things and a large puddle of water had been splashed onto the counter and was draining back into the sink.

The unblemished mirror revealed the wreck she was. Bloodshot eyes staring back at her that seemed to darken the artificial brown of her irises. Black shadow under her eyes from her mascara and eyeliner made her look hauntingly manic. Her face was a pasty sallow slightly beaded with sweat. Her hair was still in place but a few strands were damp from the continuous hydrating and purging she had undergone.

"You okay?" His voice called into the washroom. When his only existence was the sound of his rich words in their deep octaves laced with a petrifying cynicism she could get lost in-she wanted to just die. In both the good and bad kind.

"Yes," she croaked, her throat scratchy with the acid burn. She opened the door to the dim hallway. He was towering over her; a shadow in silk baby blue pajamas with silver embroidery. He was a spring sky in noon.

But it was before sunrise.

"I called for a doctor. He's on the way."

 _You didn't have to do that._ Her mouth was open to protest, to say those very words. But the light from behind her shined upon him in a way that magnified the worry in his powerful eyes. The curl of concern on his mouth. He looked uncanny to an image from her childhood imagination. A vague nostalgia struck her that she couldn't corner for the cause or reason.

And the impulse to do nothing but admire him took over.

After a few more seconds of rocking back and forth on her bare feet while staring up at the man, an inquiring frown formed. "Do you need to throw up again?"

"No." She cleared her throat and shook her head. Her brain was swimming in syrup. Her eyes were burning.

He gently walked by her in the door frame to get the glass. He rinsed it out and refilled it, handing it to her.

"Make sure you keep drinking water. You lost a lot of it."

She obliged, hiccuping in between sips. As she drained her glass she pressed the wrist of her left hand into her temple. A headache was beginning to pound its way into her thoughts, pushing all but the desire for relief.

"Let's go somewhere more comfortable," he put his hand to her back and nudged her out of the bathroom.

The panic in her brain reignited in a blast of fury. "You're not going to try anything, are you, Kaiba?"

She could practically _hear_ him smirk. "Is that what you think of me?"

"It's what I think of most men," she shot back with a dangerous-firing at the hip-trigger finger self control.

"What did my fellow man do to make such a carefree girl like you hate all of them?"

"I don't hate all of you. But after my experience I've decided it's better to live a life without that hassle." He stopped and spun to face her with incredulous disbelief but she merely kept stumbling down the hallway with her imbalanced drunken stride. She knew he was staring.

She hated the staring.

"Stop it," she slurred as she stopped at a door and tried to open it. It was locked. She could have sworn he took her into this particular room.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to the couch with the velvet cushions. They're so fuzzy. They feel good."

"Then you're trying to go into the wrong room."

"Oh?" She stopped and looked up and down the great solid oak door. It looked the least polished and cared for. "What's here?"

"A past I'd rather not reminisce on." He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her away from the door.

Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. Her heart raced. "Sounds like a secret."

"You're not the only one."

"I'm just surprised it's behind a door. How old fashioned. Please tell me that's really a closet."

"Of sorts. It's as useful as the hundreds of closets we have here. About as many skeletons, too."

She looked around wildly at the many rooms with closed doors. At the end of the hall was a singular great window with full view of the stars. "I doubt the perfect Seto Kaiba has hundreds of skeletons."

"Thousands." He leered with glittering eyes as cumbersome with passion as with entertainment.

"I would bet you couldn't match a secret for every one of mine." Her subconscious was buzzing with skepticism while her chest thumped faster. She wasn't sure if she was gargling her own feet or if she actually came up with a clever strategy for him to open up.

"I'll try to keep up," Kaiba took her arm and turned his head in the direction to the living area. "But let's have a seat, first. I was told to keep you comfortable and to conserve energy."

Sitting down sounded like a fantastic idea.

She was losing time.

No wonder she didn't recall how to get back to where they started.

She still wasn't sure how she ended up sinking in the overstuffed couch, sinking as though she was in a cloud of quicksand. "I'm going to steal your couch." She could just sink and disappear with how soft it felt. Sink. And never think again.

"If you can get if off the premises without alarming security, I'll be impressed. I'd let you keep it."

"Deal." She turned her head to him with eyes she knew were more glazed with fatigue and drunk than she'd like. A coffee table separated them from each other, a glossy marble chessboard in the center of it. Pieces all arranged in their proper order and patiently waiting to be played. Bewilderment at her fixation on the game set morphed into a childish eagerness as she looked up at her host. "You up for a game?"

"I'll destroy you."

"We'll see. So who'd like to go first?" She gestured at the light cream and rich cafe brown pieces, not caring of following the tradition of white pieces first.

Kaiba smirked, sitting in a recliner facing her on the couch. He looked poised; the professional he was. "Ladies first." The white pieces were all arranged to face her, anyway. Perfect.

She rolled her eyes and looked upward at the ceiling. It was surprisingly plain for the amount of decor and luxury that surrounded them. She expected Vatican level art painted on the ceiling. Returning to the board she moved a pawn forward.

"I'm adopted." She whispered this carefully and with ominous vigor. She turned to him again, her eyes probing at him to match her.

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his legs. He moved a bishop. "How about a little more detail. Didn't know the Freuds were so charitable to take in orphans."

She wanted to correct him. But by a miracle her self control and rational thought was still holding onto her frame of mind. Just barely. She shook the impulse to go full honesty away. She was just a dirty little liar, anyway. She moved another pawn.

"I was adopted very young. I don't remember much about the orphanage I grew up in. I know I'm lucky, though."

"What orphanage did you live at?" Kaiba moved his own pawn, not really paying the game any mind.

"Matsuharu Home for Children." She moved a knight, slumping her chin in her hand with slurred grace.

"Really." He sounded... impressed? No, surprised. In disbelief. "That's the one I went to." He moved his bishop across the board. "Check mate."

She felt her eyes widen and she sat up to lean into him. "You're an orphan too?"

Kaiba leaned back with a cool demeanor. "Mokuba and I were both adopted. Our stepfather made a point to make that information as unattainable as possible at the time, for personal reasons. It also wasn't great with shareholders as he had an actual heir who was expected to take the company."

Her mind was spinning with the possibilities. If she could publish this she knew the story would be one of the greatest revelations of Seto Kaiba ever published. Kaiba Corp. CEO, not of Kaiba blood.

And the harshness of her conflicting emotions brought her down from the mental rampage. She was being manipulative. She could feel the guilt already suffocate her. _He's helping me._

Why was she thinking this way?

 _Shut up,_ she willed her self in vain. _Just don't think about it._

"It was a lost bet. Gozaburo and I played a chess match. I wanted to make sure Mokuba and I were taken care of. And away from that place."

And still the jumble of "remember to write about this," to "shut up, just listen and don't involve work into this" had a parry match that she couldn't squander.

She was fuming into herself to the point that she lost her focus. She looked down at her hands resting on her lap, her left leg smudged with dirt. She wanted to crawl into a burrow and die. She knew she would write about this. And she hated herself for it. _Just in case. You never know what could happen._

If she could, she wished she could have sat in front of him as Yuriko Adachi instead of Sora Freud. But a part of her knew he would have never opened up to her then.

The entire point was that it wasn't for an interview, a gossip column, or for any other purpose other than to talk to a person that he clearly trusted to some degree.

It intrigued her how he could open himself up to her in this way. And confused her.

What on earth had she done to earn such trust?

"Your turn," he nodded to her impatiently. With the dismissive wave she had been bested. For now.

"Right. Give me a second," she bit her lip, tapping her left fingers against her knee. She heard the faint ticking of a clock nearby, the repetition distracting.

"How about you tell me if you're really a Freud?" Penetrating glare with a bared sneer, he scoffed. "I happen to know their kind intimately. And you don't fit into their mold."

She blinked while carefully planning out what she would say. "I am close friends with Ian Freud. He's practically my brother. But no. We're not really related."

"I see. Care to share anything else?"

"Oh no," Sora felt herself become cold all of a sudden. She fought back a chill as she rubbed at her goosefleshed skin. "I don't know if I trust you just yet."

Kaiba rose to his feet, the movement making her flinch away with a surprisingly quick reflex considering her sluggish speech and drunken state. He walked away from their seats to a side door and opened it to expose a laundry closet full of neatly folded blankets and comforters.

He brought her a large stuffed blanket, unfolding it to cover her up protectively. "Who do you trust in the world? That reporter friend of yours?"

"Kisa? Sort of." She leaned forward to wrap herself carefully in the blanket, a little larvae nestled in its cocoon. She felt his staring again, the notion unsettling her and having her sink deeper in her new protective shield.

"No. The white haired one. The morning you were hurt. She seemed rather protective of you. You trust her enough to let her contact you, it seems."

"Yes. I trust Yuriko Adachi with my life." Sora's words felt surprisingly convicted as she added, "I owe her my life."

"Do tell," he seemed intrigued and leaned back. "Did she manage to pull you out of moving traffic?"

"Ha ha, you jerk. No. She just gave me a reason to exist." She couldn't look him in the eye as she described herself. She wasn't lying. Not technically.

"Where did you meet her?"

She stifled a yawn before shaking her head vigorously. "She found me. I had nowhere to go. She and I were both lost and hurt." She nuzzled and stretched upon the sofa and felt herself relax. She smiled at him gently.

"Sounds like you're still hiding that secret," Kaiba folded his arms. Frustration was in his brow.

"All right. Then here's another. I didn't know Pegasus until that night at the gala. I just ran into him and he took it from there."

"Really? He made it sound like you two were well known associates."

"Yeah, I have a feeling he liked causing the mayhem just for entertainment. I found him when wandering his library."

"How did that go?"

"Pretty creepy. I thought Nosferatu was going to pop out at any moment."

He smirked at that. "You know, it seems like you're not being a good player with this game."

She felt her eyelids grow heavy. She yawned again, trying to fight it. It was late. She was drunk. More than anything she wanted to sleep. "Fine. Here's a big secret. My name's not Sora Freud."

"What?" He leaned forward in shock as he leaned forward. "Then what is it?"

"Mm," she felt herself go out without another word.

The light awoke her. It was bright. Too bright. Her head hated her.

She covered her eyelids with her arm, hoping it would also soothe the ache in her head. Nothing of the like happened.

She winced at a pinch in her inner arm, the faintest smell of alcohol gracing her nose. She forced herself to face the demons of the day.

She opened her eyes to see an IV bag drip above her. An elderly man in a sweater vest was touching the bag as he inspected its contents.

"Who are you?" She whispered as she tried to sit up. The nausea and ache in her head was too much.

"Please relax. You're dangerously dehydrated. I don't recommend trying another overindulgent night like that again, young lady." He tsked and turned to the person out of her line of sight. She had a strong feeling she knew who it was.

"Make sure she continues drinking water. She'll probably try to vomit again. Try to have her eat and stay out of bright places. Nothing much I can do for a hangover. She needs to wait out the storm."

"I understand. Thank you for your time, Doctor." Footsteps faded in muffled carpet. The shutting of a door had her turn her head delicately to the source. Kaiba stood, now dressed in business attire, the tie loose upon his shoulders.

She wanted to smile at him but winced and groaned. She was so cold. "How many of those have I had?"

"Two bags. This is your last one."

"Thanks. You didn't have to do this."

"Of course not, whoever you are."

She froze. Throwing her head up and trying to sit up she fought the beating of her heart. "What do you mean?"

"You confessed." He had one hand in his pants pocket with a wary glare cast her way. "Care to tell me your real name?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she winced as her head began to throb. She was having a hard time recalling what happened the night before. The sudden shift of pleasantries was making her heart speed up while her head was spinning in the opposite direction. _My bag... oh no my bag! Where is it?_

"Don't play dumb." He was becoming more and more aggravated. He walked up to her and touched her head. His fingertips were pressed into her scalp, the anger present. "I know this isn't real."

It brought back a familiar sensation from long ago. A feeling she couldn't bear to relive. "Don't touch me." She whispered as a tear began to fill her eye.

"I'll do whatever I please while you're in my house under false pretenses. Who are you?"

"I can't tell you. Please. I didn't want it to go this far with you." She was trying to find an idea to get herself out of the corner she had put herself in. She closed her eye as another tear spilled down her cheek. She let it all flow. "I'm... I'm part of the witness protection program." Epiphany. Like magic. Or maybe she thought she struck gold but really found dust.

Kaiba raised an eyebrow, his grip lightened on her head. "You think I'm an idiot?"

"No." _But I think you're desperate enough to believe a desperate lie._ "I can't tell you who I really am. But it's for my own safety. And everyone's."

His eyes narrowed and flashed down to her lower body. It made the heat in her cheeks rise. He looked less angry and more curious. "Does it have to do with your scars?"

Her pounding chest stilled while she held her breath. "How do you know about that?"

"I saw them briefly." Kaiba looked away slightly with a pink of his own rising in his nose and ears. "Burns."

 _Damn skirts._ She closed her eyes tightly and forced herself to breathe normally. She hated talking about them. She hated talking about what happened. But more than anything, she hated the idea of having to confess that she was just some shady reporter who had infiltrated his home. She knew what to say. _So long as he didn't go through my bag... He would have known._

"It was almost five years ago. I was graduating University. And," her voice cracked as she wiped furiously at her cheeks. The tears were beginning again. She forced the words to come out, as broken and tangled in emotional distress as they were. "He held me prisoner. I didn't leave that room for four weeks. He did... so many horrible things."

Evaporated skepticism went in a wisp as Seto Kaiba went to his knee in front of her, his face an empty mask of astonishment. He said nothing. He pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped her pouring tears with it, the smooth fabric soft against her skin. She covered her face with a sob, her nose running. "I can't talk about it. Please don't make me talk about it."

"You don't have to. I'm sorry." He continued kneeling next to her. "I had no idea."


	11. The Favor

_Author's note: No good excuse as to why it's taking me a while to update. I keep rewriting and messing around with changes to how I want this story to come along. I don't really have that great of a plan for the plot. Please bear with me. Thank you, so much for the reviews! Kodokmi and guest, your encouragement has made me really try to make something good out of this. I appreciate your kind words and review! So there's a lot of fluff to this chapter. I'm kind of trying to gather some knots and kinks in this tapestry I'm weaving and adding some development and embellishment. Bear with me. I'm still working on it. Thanks for reading!_

 _Update: Went back and added separators._

 _(Undercover)_

She must have left her bag at the club.

She clutched her cellphone to her chest, trying to breathe the anxiety away. Bits and pieces returned in a deja vu sensation as she walked down the familiar block. Sunset daubed the shiny glass of urban windows that made her eyes tear and revived the nausea-inducing headache that had just started to die down.

Where is it?

She was still in last night's clothes. Her scalp was greasy. Her entire body just felt gross. Her own special kind of walk of shame. It had taken her hours to get away from the prismatic citadel where Goliath himself had guarded over her with possessive fury. He had not taken her typical escape well. The brunt of his refusal to let her go had been savage but, in the end, he couldn't keep her there against her will. Wouldn't, she reminded herself. All he did was briefly chase after her, throw a sharp disparaging word, and then glare at the back of her head as she entered her uber and fled.

She played it off that it was time to go. And she coyly left in a stylish flurry of the scandalous disregard her persona as the heartbreaking enigmatic socialite had instilled. But without her clutch, her ID, her credit cards, her keychain-without her original phone she felt naked. Enough time was wasted not hunting down her purse. The uber had taken a lot longer, and the surge charge for being so out of the way made her missing wallet weep... wherever it was.

No one answered when she called Raving Riko and the black glass doors were locked. Lip biting and knuckle smacking she let out a soft hiss after minutes of no response. She needed her bag. _How am I going to get into the apartment?_

"Everything all right, miss?" A young man's voice, almost youthful and curious.

"I'm fine," She turned and her mouth became full of cotton. "Thanks," she forced a smile.

Yugi Moto looked up at her while she wished she could dissolve into the air. "You're... Sora Freud, aren't you?"

"Yes." She bowed slightly while digging her fingernails into her palms. _Oh for the love of Anxiety. Where the fuck is my shit?!_

"Are you okay? You look lost."

"I'm fine," folded arms and pouting lips she knew she didn't appear fine in the least. She was on the verge of a panic attack. "I'm just... trying to get ahold of anyone to let me in here. I think I left my purse here last night."

Yugi looked at the club doors, eyes squinting in thought. "I don't think anyone's going to be there right now. But you're in luck!" Yugi raised his hand with an excited smile while adding, "Ryuji Otogi owns this nightclub. I can call him and ask, if you want."

 _Oh fucking hell_. Elated terror jumbled around in her brain as she processed the bittersweet luck and utter inconvenience she had brought onto herself. "That would be great." She bared her teeth in a grin of a borderline manic Cheshire cat.

She threw her wig across the room while dropping her purse on the floor in an aggravated act. She was trembling again-either from not having eaten anything since the night before or from the pure rage she had for dealing with Otogi once again.

She leaped into the shower, her body physically easing back into a state of regularity as she basked in the hot water. She could smell the alcohol on her skin. A favor. She owed that dice freak a favor. She couldn't believe it. He didn't ask questions, nor did he reveal if he knew or not. And that, in itself, was what drove her the craziest.

She kept trying to tell herself there wasn't much she could do to change the situation. She was powerless. Either he knew her secret or he simply hadn't gone through her purse. Or maybe he just assumed she was getting it for her 'friend' and that was the end of it.

Either way, he made her promise she'd return the _favor._ _And I didn't at least get Moto to take an interview. Goddamn it._ Damp white locks dripping down her back while she finished and toweled herself down; yearning like a famished sloth for her bed and to turn off her phones. She had a busy week ahead of herself: interviews with the bigshots that she didn't feel ready to take on and the articles she'd have to write up to publish. She needed a glass of water. And maybe some Vicodin.

It was going to be on of those nights sleep just wouldn't come for her.

(Undercover)

Standing in her precarious heels and figure clinging pencil skirt, she looked a lot more confident than she felt. Waiting was something she hated, more than anything, at that moment. In the corner of the main entryway was a lone maid, swabbing the floor while humming to herself an off key J-pop tune. The elder brought the wormy gray mass of yarn back into the small bucket, making a splash of opalescent soapy water which exploded onto the marble. Yuriko's breath froze in mid inhale.

It had been the bucket that took her away. _That plain dirty white plastic brought her back to those days. She could smell the shit and taste the salt on her tongue as she breathed heavily while trying to push the cheap plaster door open. Light headed. Dizzy. Her skin was clammy and feverish._

 _And that bucket in the corner, right next to that miserable sleeping bag. All he gave her was a fucking bucket to do her business in. The smell made her vomit. And then the tiny enclosure stank of that, too._

"Mr. Pegasus will see you now," the gruff voice whisked her back to the present as she tore her eyes from the maid mopping up the foyer floor. The sopping sounds of mop slapping and squishing into the bucket had her skin itch as she followed the escort into the next room.

Mr. Pegasus' mansion was a fortress draped in extravagance sans gala as it was with one. Walking through the expansive halls a second time brought back the waves of remembrance of the party with every step and every inch deeper in the rabbit hole.

Unlike the evening in question the halls were no longer mysterious and romantic but instead flooded with sunlight and spring. Heavy velvet curtains of crimson and gold embroidery were drawn apart to let the light through. The scents of cleaner and bergamot grew stronger as Yuriko entered the next living room. Above her head were crystal light fixtures that captured her eyes, the clear dangling glass cascading rainbows and spraying light all across the room like a disco ball.

"Yuri!" Maximillion Pegasus rose to his feet, clad in freshly pressed red suit and hand stretched out. "You're a vision of loveliness."

"Mr. Pegasus," Yuriko gave a wide smile as she took his hand. Eager to begin and to continue the pleasant relations she took in the older man's glowing expression. "I can't thank you enough for your kindness and agreement to speaking with me.

"The pleasure's all mine." Yuriko thought she saw a glimmer in his brown eye before they took their seats.

Yuriko sat in the love seat across from the lazy chair Pegasus rested in opposite her. In between them rested a lavish spread of teas and pastries on display. Rainbows and sugar. Frothy clouds and smokey steam.

Yuriko had her snowy locks pulled into a high bun, her glasses propped on the bridge of her nose while she prepared her recorder. "I hope you don't mind if I record this entire conversation, Mr. Pegasus." She carefully placed the device on the table in front of her, the red light glowing.

"Not at all, Yuri darling," Maximillion Pegasus had his legs crossed, his silver mane flowing down past his shoulders in regal symmetry. "I couldn't imagine you allowing a _single_ detail going by without ensuring it wouldn't contribute to the article. Like any good reporter would."

She bowed her head graciously, hoping the twitching in the corner of her mouth was not visible past the strands of hair that fell over her face. She felt like she was being scrutinized; the oblivious prey through a hunter's scope. His eye was unsettling her to a point that she forced herself to stick to professionalism. Her shield from the stares. "You are too kind. I hope I don't disappoint you."

"Oh, I know you won't. Especially with all the juicy news I've been hearing about Sora Freud and Seto Kaiba, I can't wait to read the exclusive on myself."

She raised an eyebrow, biting her lip. "I haven't published anything new about Seto Kaiba or Sora Freud since that traffic accident/helicopter escapade."

"Oh I've noticed. How is poor little Sora doing after that? Not in some drab hospital bed, I hope?"

"She's fine," Yuriko's cheeks blushed as her eyes flashed onto the recorder. The red light burned into her eyes like a soothing solace from his gaze. She was a little confused on what game Pegasus was playing at, but knew it wise to play along. "She walked away with a few scrapes and bruises. But nothing serious. Last time we spoke she said she's back to normal. She mentioned you, in fact."

"Did she?" He raised his eyebrow and smirked, the expression she wanted nothing more than to wash away with a kettle of hot water in that exact moment. _Calm down,_ she forced herself to breathe in steadily. She didn't understand why she felt so nervous around the man.

"She also told me many great things about the gala you threw." _Back pedal. Get back to the interview._

"Ah, yes. I found her to be absolutely charming. A shame you couldn't make it, Yuri darling."

"My deepest regrets. It sounded like a wonderful event."

"It was. I don't want you missing another. Please tell me you'll be attending the 'Around the World' Tournament in the next three months."

"I'm afraid I won't. My supervisor informed me that Kaiba Corp. did not include the Sakura Star in the selected group of media permitted to attend and view the competition."

"It is supposed to be rather isolated. But I assumed having many close friends with influential people you'd already have a ticket for the cruise. Didn't Sora mention it at all? I was sure she would have been invited, what with her newfound acquaintance with Seto Kaiba." His brown eye sparkled in intrigue, his mouth full of tease.

"I can't say she mentioned it. And I wasn't privy to that piece of gossip. So the word is Sora Freud and Seto Kaiba are an item?"

Pegasus laughed with his hand over his chest. "I'm only repeating what the staff have been whispering about. Well this has been an interesting revelation." He closed his eye for a brief moment and cocked his head back in thought. With pause it flashed open and he locked eyes with Yuriko. "No worries. I'll ensure you have admission. And one guest. I'm sure you'd like a photographer present to capture the romance of the sea?"

"Sir," Yuriko was flustered, bowing her head again. A gift from the heavens was handed to her in golden wrapping. And the gifter was Maximillion Pegasus. "Thank you, very much."

"Of course," Pegasus waved a hand and laughed again, "I'll be expecting plenty of positive publicity for Industrial Illusions. You'll have to ensure that any duels I partake in are covered extensively."

"I'll make sure you and your company are completely basked in the positive light. I can coordinate with your PR rep to ensure Industrial Illusions has the best image."

"Good. Oh, and one more thing." Pegasus nodded to the recorder. She complied and went to turn it off. Once her finger touched the stop option he added, "Do be sure to bring Sora with you."

She blinked at the request, clearing her throat. "Why Sora?"

"Why, isn't it obvious?" He poured himself some tea, adding sugar cubes to his drink. "She's become a public favorite overnight. Her presence would do wonders for the publicity of the tournament and Industrial Illusions. Plus it's clear Kaiba boy would be enthralled to see her there."

"Maybe more suspicious," Yuriko looked away, a mixed memory she wasn't sure was real grazed her vision. She remembered warm calloused fingertips on the base of her neck, possibly while she had been puking into a toilet. "He didn't invite her."

"Not yet, but give it time." He winked. "You're absolutely radiant since I last saw you."

She felt her face erupt in flames. She wasn't sure what he was insinuating. But she grew suspicious suddenly, not understanding what he wanted. Good PR was easy for a powerful man like Maximillion Pegasus. She couldn't possibly be any real use to him with her corner magazine articles. "Let's be frank. What's your angle?"

He giggled huskily, sipping his tea with pinky extended. "I prefer keeping my cards to myself. But rest assured my motives are harmless. In fact, I have nothing but good intentions."

"You're not planning on trying to take over Kaiba Corp. again, are you?"

The smug toothy grin faded slightly along with the pleasant glimmer in his narrowed singular eye. _I wish I could just move his hair and see both of them. It's like I'm talking to Silver, the Emo Pirate._ "Now where did you learn that intriguing little fact? It never made the papers all those years ago."

"I can't show you all the cards in my hand either," Yuriko smirked back with guilty pleasure at having phased him. It dissolved instantaneously as she felt her neck prickle at the way Pegasus glared at her. But she already put one foot deep in the mud pit. She was sinking fast and decided to commit to plummeting in. "And I'm not surprised about the hush up. I heard kidnapping was involved."

The rapid return of Pegasus' ease brought a surprised calm to Yuriko's beating heart. He shrugged it away and continued to sip his tea. "Now why bring up unpleasant memories? I made many mistakes in my younger years. Now if you're planning to make this public I can assure you I will ruin you."

"No worries, Mr. Pegasus. I have no intention of using that bit of info against you. So long as we both are at an understanding." She kept her stare level with him. "You don't try anything funny with me or use Sora as a pawn. Especially if it involves Seto Kaiba."

"As I've said before," he coolly retorted with a newfound abrasiveness of sandpaper. "I'm only interested in the publicity. And in your and Kaiba boy's best interests."

"Please excuse my cynicism. I just find it hard to believe in random generous acts from strangers these days."

"I understand." Pegasus pressed his elbow to the armrest of his chair, leaning his head into his palm as he pondered. "Perhaps a little more honesty then. So you can understand and trust me." He watched her carefully, his gaze all watching and penetrating. "Forgive me, Yuri. When my staff discovered the true identity of Sora I had them perform an extensive background check on you. Even back to your college years. And the police reports."

She felt the blood drain away from her cheeks. She clenched her jaw and hands while keeping her composure as stable as possible. "I see." _Will the whole world know now?_ She had been spared the public scrutiny of the case as it never captured the media's attention. Just another case of a university student who disappeared only to be found brutalized. The police had kept the details of her personal hell behind locked doors and confidential files. It would have been distasteful for anyone to reap any profit in exploiting her story and without any scandalous confirmation on the details no reporter had bothered to press and dig deeper. Only those closest to her had known the full extent of the scars along with the doctors that examined her. Only her parents, Ian, and Kisa had known. Then, just recently, Mokuba Kaiba. And now Maximillion Pegasus.

"In the reports you told the police your attacker had been a man obsessed with a singular card that he believed you were the physical manifestation of. A card, I admit, I created out of inspiration for a woman from long ago. That was his only motivation." He leaned forward to her, his hands clasped together. "I feel responsible for what happened to you."

"No." She kept her wavering voice from falling apart. She held a hand up to have him silent. "Thank you, kindly, Mr. Pegasus for your concern. But please respect that I don't want to discuss this any further with you. Not now." Wavering voice and watery eyes were stifled as she cleared her throat and smiled again. She was trying to get away from that bucket again, the bucket that chased her with its shit smell and puke stains. "I think it would be best if we returned to the interview."

"I understand." Pegasus sat back with a sigh. "May I add that all of this running away will never provide room for healing."

"Reopening scabs never did much for healing either," she retorted as she knelt down to return the recorder to service. "Now... Tell me a little about what's been going on with your life, Mr. Pegasus. What are the new XYZ Monsters addition to the game?"

(Undercover)

The evening was cool and moonless. Standing out on the very same smooth stone balconies where Kaiba and Freud had sat to gaze at the roses and stars those many nights ago, Pegasus sipped his evening red wine with ponderous indifference. He was draped in his evening robes and thoroughly buzzed with more than a singular bottle of his preferred vintage.

"A shame," he murmured to himself in a drunken muse while basking in the sound of sprinklers sputtering in the gardens below. "She has no idea."

He sipped again from his glass before placing it on the ledge where he half slumped and half leaned against. The interview that morning had been an absolute disaster. Instead of winning her trust he had shattered his chance at awakening her to the truth. He had to reverse his plan and now continued to bide his time.

The great dragon had become a trembling little butterfly. The evils of the world ravished her of her might.

Despite the fragile illusion of safety she had reestablished for herself she was in serious danger. He couldn't allow her to leave the world again, not without another chance to finally be with her past lover. He was always a sucker for romance.

Pegasus sighed at the reminiscent visions that had plagued him many years ago when he had the millennium eye that showed him the deepest secrets of a man's heart and had the greatest powers of pulling the very souls out of his transgressors. Where a pale woman wounded by the cruelty of the world gave her very life for the man she loved. He hardly bared it any mind when he first witnessed the past events and merely focused his affections and passions on the monsters for the game. And the power. That power that he still craved some nights, like a recuperating addict lost in memory. It wasn't until many years later, after looking back at the chaos and destruction that had transpired... and all because he was the one that brought the creatures back from hiding with his company, he came to terms with the grave responsibility he neglected.

Even as an Egyptian, Kaiba boy had that awful attitude. Pegasus knew his mistreatment of the two brothers was unforgivable. Locking a young child in a dungeon and ripping the very soul out of his body had been actions he thought at the time were warranted and necessary. And to this day Seto Kaiba hardly treated him more than a business associate he was cornered to deal with; the very creator of the game he loved, the God of the card universe where his company made a profit creating technology to play. The standoff sensation that was palpable in any room both men stood was sensed by any and all.

Yet, despite the practically disrespectful way Seto Kaiba went about on business with Pegasus a strong sense of pity took over. The boy had been on his own for most of his life. His little brother had been more of a liability in his childhood-more a son than a sibling, really-and because of the very strong character from such a young orphan to sacrifice and willingly surrender his innocence and childhood for the sake of providing a good life for his brother was admirable. But the negligence of his social development was evident.

Now a man, Seto Kaiba was still alone. His brother, too, had matured and thrived and was now branching out to live his own life. Seto Kaiba was now experiencing the struggles of any parent whose child has grown up and started to fly out of the nest. _I wonder how Kaiba boy will manage the day Mokuba packs his bags and moves on. If he doesn't find someone soon he'll be found a decrepit miser who died at the desk of his corporate office. Ironic. Ten years ago, tiny Mokuba couldn't survive a day without calling for his older brother to save him. Now, it would seems Kaiba boy needs to be saved._ Despite the many more kidnappings the younger Kaiba suffered as well as the attempts that still occurred to this day, Mokuba Kaiba was the more functional and personable of the two.

Knowing all too well the pains of a grand empire with no one to share it with, Pegasus looked on at his estate with careful contemplation.


	12. The Interview

Author's Note: I looked over and tried to do some rewrites-I go a little overboard with description sometimes and get all the run-ons and commas all messed up. Grammar is hard. Also, saw Yugioh DSODs this morning. It was amazing. Hilarious. And a blast from the past. Kaiba was oh so typically douchy and I loved it. I had to post an update for you all. So I noticed that my little (Undercover) was missing in some chapters. I'll be going back and checking on them, I bet the segways/POV shifts must have been confusing in the chapters that don't have them. Feel free to let me know of any editing that's needed! Shout out to Kodokmi and the two guests that reviewed. Thank you. As I'm pressing onward with this story I think about you guys!

Chav is basically what the Brits use to describe "a young lower-class person who displays brash and loutish behaviour and wears real or imitation designer clothes" according to WIKIPEDIA. British slang. Classy shit, there.

(Undercover)

She tried to keep her composure. It took every drop of self control to not twitch or fidget under his torturous scrutiny. _How can someone not blink or break eye contact for this long?_ She inhaled slowly while readjusting her pen in her fingers. Her trusty notepad rested on her lap while her knees pressed against each other. She sat patiently while observing him from the corner of her eye.

Before her were both Kaiba brothers. Young Mokuba was reclining casually and smiling with that all knowing beam while the stoic CEO sat with arms and legs crossed. And he looking at her as though she had been the most annoying fly to have missed the bug zapper.

"So, Mr. Kaiba, you are what our readers endearingly call, the great Rockefeller of Domino City. Where did it all start?" A smirk. A sneer. Those electric blue eyes finally closed and spared her the harsh intensity that made her bones shiver. He sat back in his seat of the shiny modern office while she masked her face in a pleasant, gentle grin. _My name is Adachi Yuriko. I am just a reporter for the Sakura Star. I'm not loudmouth Sora. I am... a good girl; the quiet girl._ But then Sora-cooing and laughing mockingly inside of her-seemed to be the devil on her shoulder that whispered huskily, _Tell me all your secrets, Kaiba. We'll take care of them all. Promise._ She was getting torn apart. A little misconstrued. Being more clear headed, she would have appreciated the aesthetic of his workplace. And yet, despite their surroundings she couldn't enjoy any of it when he was silent. It was just her and her thoughts. It was worse than when he was throwing insults about. But she was a professional. She'd get him to talk. As her true self. Little Sora was brushed off her shoulder and began to fall: screaming and flailing down into the great abyss below. "If there was something specific you'd like to focus on first, I'd love to hear it."

"I'm sure you would."

She refused to let his smug words intimidate. She matched his stare. It was her cerulean versus his sapphire; filtered through her silver framed glasses, she bowed her head. "Since you agreed to this interview, I was hoping we could discuss your newest dueling console. Or if the rumors of opening the Duel Academy within the next decade was true."

"I'd prefer if we talk about our mutual friend first. Off the record."

 _I was an idiot to think this would be about anything but that. Fuck. Not dealing with this._ Her eyes went to the more amicable lilac hue of Mokuba to abscond from Kaiba's onslaught. Then she rose to her feet. "All right. If that's all we're going to discuss, I'm afraid I'll take my leave then." She closed her notepad with a snap and reached for her recorder.

She was almost done packing before he muttered, "You remind me of her." She paused and looked up at him in a self conscious scare. She refused to cast a 'what the hell does that mean' glance over to her double-agent confidant.

"How so?"

He was studying her. Dissecting her like an alien component. _Flashing indicators and rotating dials on meters_. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees in a surprisingly casual slouch. Smiling. "Sit down, Adachi. I'll give you your interview." Slowly she sank into the plush upholstery with wary eyes. Listening carefully. His arms remained folded and he gazed off into the distance as though lost in thought. Seto Kaiba began, "It all started when I was eight years old and our father died in a car accident. Mokuba and I had relatives and an inheritance, but it was taken from us and we were abandoned in an orphanage." The scratching of pen on paper began and the familiar click of her digital voice recorder set. _Nancy Drew, on the case._

"What about your mother?"

"Died in childbirth."

"I'm so sorry..." Guilt stung like bile in her throat while trying to swallow the information. The Kaibas were always very private. And a detail like this was never revealed to the public. This wasn't something even she had been aware of. She couldn't look over to Mokuba. She didn't dare.

"These things happen. I wish Mokuba could have met her... I remember she was kind. And loved us very much."

"So you attended the Matsuhara Home for Children." She almost bit her tongue as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Sora told me." Still, the eyebrow was raised, and along came that hostile sneer. She pressed on. "Forgive me for touching such a sensitive topic. Was it hard living in an orphanage?" She had been lucky: she had been one of the few fortunate to ever be adopted in Japan. And at an age before she could even fully remember the place. She tried to muster up any memory. It was her imagination that took her away: _The lines of children_ was what she conjured. _Loud talking, screaming and crying bodies all fidgeting in discomfort as they waited for another meal of rice and shredded mash. The rows of beds that lined up, all cold steel and scratchy white sheets._ _The smell of puke and stagnant air._

"It was squalor. Mokuba and I had only each other. And it was dull. Just a giant warehouse where kids were placed to be thrown away and forgotten. There was no real education or means of developing useful skills to be stable, independent adults one day. The monotony was dangerous because it institutionalized us. I couldn't let it go any longer. It is a depressing and hostile environment. Children turn on each other because of the harsh situation."

"Getting used to our new lives after Gozaboro adopted us was difficult, too. We didn't know how to cope with the... problems we faced. We were basically helpless when we first were adopted. But Seto saved us. And he outsmarted our adopted father."

"You two were very young children. Who wouldn't need extra attention, especially after having a major life change at such a young age?"

"It was more than just a typical adoption. We were adopted by Gozaboro Kaiba!" Mokuba leaned forward with impassioned fury. "He didn't want to adopt us originally, but Seto had made him. And out of spite, he was an abusive father. There was no love in our upbringing. I was often left to the care of the housekeepers. And Seto..." Mokuba turned to his older brother. Pain was in his eyes. "Seto suffered the most."

She studied him and waited for any movement or change in his stance to reveal his thoughts or emotions. But he was stoic. Always the statuesque pillar of ice. She had to respect him for his self control. "It's very clear that you sacrificed so much for your brother. And it's very admirable." She was surprised that he didn't seem to take that compliment well. No arrogant confirmation followed with a condescending backhanded dismissal to follow. No. He looked away. His profile was a curvature of well defined nose and lips; jawline as enjoyable to look at as a mountain view.

Then it was her turn to turn her head-her cheeks inflamed and she went down to her notepad to scribble hurriedly. _Mokuba, don't laugh at me now._ She was blushing.

(Undercover)

"That's terrible!" Mokuba's voice broke in his concentration abruptly, slowing down his rapid typing as he begrudgingly looked up from the computer monitor. Mokuba had the TV blaring in his office, the volume kept muted out of respect for the older brother's productivity. The news was set to a live showing of an unidentified woman standing at the ledge of one of the tall buildings in downtown Domino. Whoever was capturing the footage was most likely up in a helicopter somewhere, judging from the unsteady quality.

Instead of making any commentary he returned to the problem at hand: Plans for the biggest tournament he had thrown in years was underway. It was one of the more exciting aspects of his job that he sorely missed when he first shifted Kaiba Corp. to games and entertainment. Despite funding and arranging the competition he rarely had any significant control over what happened anymore. He delegated the overall product he wanted and everything always traveled down the ladder with specifics these days. Especially for something that was more for enjoyment than any real profit. He had to commit his time to what made the company stock value go up. Another tournament wasn't something he could prioritize on the fly anymore. It was pushing out the next product that the masses would consume.

But he still squeezed in some preferences when he found time. Currently he was working on a new duel disc-something he planned on incorporating in his future Duel Academy and wanted to put the prototype up for the cruise.

"Oh no!" Mokuba let out a cry that froze his typing again. "She jumped!" Mokuba had been 'helping' him as he often did: working on marketing ideas and brainstorms for some of their new consoles that were due to be put out in another year. It wasn't a very time intensive activity and often resulted with his little brother being distracted or simply working on one of his freelance video games he was independently developing.

"Seto, they're not explaining anything else."

"That's because it's distasteful to broadcast a snuff film on public television."

Mokuba turned with watery eyes and a trembling mouth. It took him back to when they were younger. He had the strongest desire to mess up that thick mop of hair that used to be a rat nest but was now sleeked with plenty of pomade. He wasn't a little boy anymore. "Does that mean she's..."

"...that's exactly what it means." Not one for sugar coating, and often wishing it wasn't the case, but Mokuba was _23_ now, Seto Kaiba needed to be more calloused with these matters. "These happen every day."

"But that's horrible!" Mokuba looked hurt; the expression he showed to his brother made him uncomfortable. It was the look of unfamiliarity. Mokuba gave him that look when he 'went Brobot' as he liked to put it. He wasn't being a robot. He was being practical.

"Seto, sometimes I worry about you."

"You worry about everything." He returned to typing. The sound of keys clattering helped distract him. He paused and looked at him one more time. "I wish there was a way to prevent those situations from happening. But it's not possible. And it's... a shame." There was no excitable words or noises that came from his sibling after this. The rest of the afternoon had transpired quickly and efficiently, with all the desired tasks completed. He looked up to see Mokuba texting away on his phone. They would be heading out in a few minutes like they ritualistically did. "Hey."

Mokuba looked up from his touch pad with a neutral expression. "What's up?"

"You want to have a game night? You, me, that chocolate ice cream you like?"

Mokuba's eyebrows raised slightly and his cheeks rushed red. "Uh... gee..."

Confusion was not something he was used to. He was trying to figure out what the problem was. Did he say something incorrectly? Was Mokuba still upset with him?

"Sorry, Seto, I promised Mimi we'd grab dinner tonight. She's coming to pick me up, actually."

"I see." The unfamiliar tightening of his chest was constricting and unsettling. This was unfamiliar territory. "Be safe out there. Would you like an escort?"

"I will and no thanks, bro. We'll be careful. Promise." Mokuba's phone went off and he went to answer it. Purple eyes lit up to a pastel hue and his passive frown glowed to a bright smile. "Hi, Mimi. I'm on my way down right now." He waved at his brother before gathering his things and quickly walked out; now talking quickly and quietly into the cellphone.

The room suddenly became double in size. Kaiba looked down at his computer and desk layout; feeling a sense of being left to hang and dry. He quickly pushed the emotion aside and returned to work. He was almost satisfied with the progress of the day and began to start saving files.

The flash of the TV caught his eye and he looked up at it, half humored that Mokuba forgot to turn it off again. Taking the remote to make the sensational news go blank he paused when it flashed to a familiar pale brunette who was currently being the focal point of the screen. Apparently, she had been spotted last in a shopping mall with reporter Kisa Hoshino. The caption below boldly asked, 'WHO IS SORA FREUD?'

 _Great question,_ he smirked with remote still outstretched. He hesitated as something in his mind seemed to be frozen in his brain-it was as though his thought process was stuck loading up a memory. And he had no idea why. He recalled Sora. And Adachi Yuriko's interview.

And then he remembered what he had intended to do earlier that week.

Slightly agitated that he had forgotten, he proceeded to type away furiously at his computer. The Matsuhara Home for Children's website was outdated with little information available. Pressing down on his telephone, he paged his secretary.

"Yes, sir?"

"Schedule an appointment with the Director of the Matsuhara Home for Children. I need access to the past thirty years of residents. And highlight any girls who had the first name, 'Sora', involved. If he gives you a hard time, have him call me directly."

"Yes, sir."

 _Who is Sora Freud? That was the mystery he wouldn't give up on._

(Undercover)

 _I thought we were over this._ Yuriko fumed as she pushed the heavy door to the ramen shop open; noting the lights had dimmed, as it was two hours past closing.

"Thank you for arriving," the grim elder called out from the tiny kitchen. He rarely spoke, his Mandarin accent very heavy. "He has been here since lunch and won't leave."

At the far end of the bar, slumped over two empty sake pitchers and some spilled drink, snored the familiar silhouette. In the low lighting she more recognized the sound of rambunctious thunder that was winding throw his nostrils and throat. _Only one man I know snores like Satan's freight train._

"Ian. Wake up." She knew he would lurch awake and start swinging if she took a physical and direct approach. She patiently waited as his snoring broke and then continued with a more urgent volume. "Wake. Up."

He still breathed heavily with sleep, the tempest now over. Not moving, Yuriko looked around to get a bearings on her surroundings. _If this is anything like how he was back then, I may get a black eye_. She poked him carefully on the shoulder, ready to jump back as soon as he moved.

Still not moving, she rolled her eyes and proceeded to shove. Followed with two hands. Finally, she stopped with the cautious approach and began to violently shake and yell. "Ian Freud! You're making a mess of things!"

"Get off!" He jumped up and swung his arm across the bar, knocking down the ceramic drink ware to the ground. The shattering noise made Yuriko flinched, and hearing the owner curse in his native language with vigor made her wonder if she'd ever be welcome back to that establishment again. Ian stood, large shoulders tight to strike. His purple hair had faded to a lavender; the roots a flaxen yellow. _It's like a great big fairy is about to combine with the Hulk._

As he blinked in disorientation, Yuriko folded her arms and tapped her shoe impatiently: the heel's sole making a satisfying clack on the tile. She had been at work when she got the rare urgent call from the lone ramen cook which resulted in her having to leave from a paper to retrieve her inebriated friend. Discontent was a sound way of putting how she felt. She was hoping her expression was as clear as her body language was. "Wait outside. Now."

He squinted at her, then rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say," he muttered additional words indistinguishable under his breath while brushing by her. Fighting the acid burning in her chest at not knowing what he said, she grit her teeth heatedly. He rarely spoke in German around her unless he was being particularly vulgar. Not enjoying the walk they were about to have, she dug into her purse to pay for the damages.

Apologies and payments done she made her way out of the shop, seeing Ian with his hands in his pockets and a refusal to look at her while leaning against a newspaper box. Not wanting to let him get away with the childish behavior, Yuriko held her arms out in frustration. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You know damn well what." She closed in on him, making sure she was still a good arm's length from him. "What's with putting poor Mr. Woo through all your angst?"

"Fuck Woo, man. I don't give a fuck." He was indeed stinking drunk. Swaying and lurching about in an impressive display of balance on a rocking boat, the man also gave off the familiar aroma of too many sake shots after a few hours.

There was no point in trying to talk to him in this state. Yuriko went on her phone to order a taxi, shaking her head in frustrated surrender. "Let's get you home."

"No. I want to walk." Without another word he swung on his heels and started stumbling off down the block.

"Ian!" Yuriko ran after him, his long legs making him move a lot faster than she could easily keep up with. "You can't walk home. You could get arrested. You're obviously drunk."

"Shut up." Ian's mouth was open as he breathed heavily, his glazed eyes not focused straight ahead.

Yuriko rolled her eyes again and commented quietly, "You're going the wrong way. This is heading to my apartment."

"You think I don't know that?" Ian snapped again before groaning and stopping for a second. Abruptly he vomited off the curve, right over a sewage drainage divet. Yuriko wrinkled her nose only to have to chase him back down again. "I'm walking you home, idiot."

Yuriko laughed, crossing her arms from the cold. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because I'm a fucking gentleman."

"More like a Chav."

"Psh. As if. That's so out dated." Running his hand through his hair in fuming contemplation he sighed and blurted out, "My Dad killed someone again."

Yuriko's legs stuck to the cement like glue. Hands falling at her sides she looked at the back of his head in shock. "What did you say?"

He ignored her, pausing only to turn back at her with the glimmer of the lamplight as their only source of illumination. A haunting knowledge reflected in his vacant eyes. She saw shadows there: shadows of a misery she had only briefly caught in all the years she knew him. And it was coming out to face her instantaneously. Like a putrid flood. A pus-filled cyst. She had gone cold inside at this exposure; not sure where to continue from there.

He turned away again and continued to walk, hands in his pockets, down the block toward her apartment building.

(Undercover)

"I don't understand. I am senior to Adachi. I should have been the one to receive the invitation to the cruise."

"Ms. Xuan, you weren't personally invited by Mr. Pegasus. This is a stroke of luck for us! This is an opportunity for Sakura Star to have an insider for the tournament."

"Then why not send me instead?"

"Because those were not the terms involved for her to appear as a representative for the Star. This is not in anyone's ability to change." Mr. Marukai's ears were blooming brighter in color as the conversation continued. Yuriko could see the rage grow in his gritted teeth and scowled forehead as the lines upon them became deeper and deeper.

"But-"

"ENOUGH!" The man's roar made both woman jump in surprise. "Ms. Xuan, please take the rest of the day off. Seeing as you cannot maintain a professional attitude today, I think it's best if you leave."

The fury was electric in Wei Xuan's eyes as she stormed out and shooting a final hateful glare at Yuriko before slamming the door. Rubbing his temples and sighing in between puffs of his cigar, the older man looked like he was aging even more in minutes. "Don't embarrass me, Adachi."

"I won't, sir."


	13. The Breakdown

(Undercover)

The smell of gunpowder always made his mind feel electric with glee. He felt a warm spittle of blood splatter upon his left cheek while the steaming heap of flesh slumped face down on the dusty cement. Liquid as dark red as a blood moon spread out like a flood, exiting the lifeless meat at his feet.

One of his lackeys promptly came to take the gun from his hands, wrapping it gingerly in a thick cloth and holding it with submissive hands. "Get rid of him," he gruffed the command and wandered out of the derelict warehouse. The smell of seagull shit and rotting fish was a comfort to him. He was in his own element. This was where he belonged. Where all the family belonged.

Large men in gray sweaters and thick boots escorted him outside where the industrial noises of the shipyard performed a symphony of metal clanging, needlework screaming, and distant booms from the implosions of old reinforced steel.

"Schlussstein," his younger brother jogged toward him, phone in hand, as he tried to keep pace with his long legged gait. "News from Japan."

"What of my Schatzi?"

"He has been seen loitering in a specific restaurant, usually to meet with a fellow foreignor. A woman."

"Oh?" He stopped, letting his sibling catch his breath.

"He has been doing nothing but getting drunk every day. But this woman he seems to be close to."

"This is good news." He took out a cigarette from his coat and lit it, blowing a smoke ring while clicking his teeth. "Have her followed."

(Undercover)

The sound of the bell rang across the harbor, scaring seagulls up in screechy wails as they scattered across the blue sky. They looked like little dandelion seeds blowing away from the great cruise ship that made its last call.

Leaning on the rails and looking out on the starboard side of the great metal beast, Yuriko sighed with pleasant euphoria while gazing at the sparkling ocean waters. She wore prescription sunglasses and a great straw hat, her pale arms shiny with military strength sunblock.

 _The air smells so fresh and salty,_ she mused to herself while going deeper in her thoughts of taking in the surroundings. _I feel so relaxed. That's all I needed, was a chance to get away for a while. These next few months are going to be the ah-may-zing!_

The click of a camera pulled her from her internal monologue. Looking up she smiled with her round shades sliding down the bridge of her nose. "Takaeda, taking pictures of the harbor, I'm sure?"

Her cameraman blushed a beet red while flustering with his camera in between broken stammers. "I-it's just-I-wanted to take a picture of you. You look at peace-Not at all like in the office."

Her personal cameraman, Giro Takaeda, was assigned to her for the trip after she informed Mr. Marukai she had not one but two tickets to the 'Around the World' Duel Monsters Tournament. Joy would have been an understatement in describing the ecstatic glee her supervisor had been at the news. From then on until the last night before the cruise began, Mr. Marukai constantly enthused and showered her with praises and encouraging instructions. Sakura Star would be one of the only tabloids with any immediate update to the great tournament. Every week the magazine was to publish a collective update of stories, gossip, scandal, and all the pictures Takaeda could take. Of course, they would showcase as many ads of Industrial Illusions as they could fit in the magazine. Yuriko's fleeting thoughts of Maximillion Pegasus and the day of the interview was relived. She had gone into a state of hysteria-a mental breakdown long overdue, she knew.

The humiliation was still burning within her and she wanted to move on from the incident without any further issue. She had refused to have a consultation with Pegasus' psychiatrist, despite multiple protests. The overwhelming outside involvement in her life was driving her to the brink. What she needed was a break from everybody trying to pry their claws into her life's flesh. A cruise was just what the doctor ordered.

She looked forward to the break from the day to day bustle of Domino, the tension with Wei, and instead just focus on watching Duel Monsters champions showcase their new strategies while traveling all across the globe. It was just a shame Kisa hadn't been selected to join her.

"I need photographs, Adachi! Good ones, not those casual selfies Ms. Hoshino is so skilled at taking." Mr. Marukai had rejected her request to bring Kisa along, instead insisting Takaeda join her.

The cruise was supposed to take them around the world for the course of two months. Port calls in Hawaii, San Diego, Argentina, England, Italy, Egypt... and continuing through the Suez Canal with more stops that would eventually finish in Japan.

Kaiba Corp. spared no expense, it seemed. The great cruise ship was a magnificent silver beast, bustling with guests from all walks of life. Yuriko recognized Yugi Motuo, Mako Tsunami, as well as the great household names of Duel Monster champions. Excitement was a perpetual emotion she had been experiencing for days. She was as giddy as a rabbit in a carrot field. Even if that carrot field had some mines scattered and hidden in the grass. Turning her head faintly toward the general direction of her private cabin, the dark anxiety rippled in her abdomen with crude abruptness.

For among her personal clothes and essentials that were to last her two whole freaking months, she had to pack clothing with enough diversity and discriminating tastes for two people. Among her suitcases were the ingredients to Sora, as well. Just in case. In case she needed to have Yuriko Adachi simply disappear for a few hours. It had nothing to do with Maximillion Pegasus' wishes. And it certainly had nothing to do with the host of the cruise. It was for herself. For her own protection. _Yeah, right,_ she didn't even believe herself. But a part of her had the hope that she was doing this for work. That she could cover more ground with two personas than just one. She ignored the little voice in her head that knew better.

"Ms. Adachi... um... would you like to visit the bar?" The shy and nervous voice behind her pulled her back to reality. Her new partner. This new photographer was a little obstacle for privacy. She turned to him and studied the young man taking many shots of the cityscape. He was a short and stocky man, with a goatee and thick plastic framed glasses. She had seen him at work occasionally but didn't know him that well. His pictures were well done, though, and she was glad to have a competent companion with her. Thankfully he was able to pick up on social cues easily, what with her asking him to kindly give her space whenever he ventured too close in her personal bubble or asked her questions that got a little too casual for her to answer.

He must be an aspiring reporter, she smiled at the idea, knowing the feeling intimately. So far, Takaeda seemed like a nice guy. Maybe she would put in a good word for him with Mr. Marukai. He could get assigned to something besides shady restaurant corners to spy on celebs trying to sneak a date.

"You made it!" A friendly voice called out to her and put a smile on her face at recognizing who it belonged to. "I knew Seto would send an invite to you!"

"Hey, Mokuba," She felt her cheeks warm up at the scrutiny of her colleague. The cameraman was gawking with his eyes taking up half his face. "I'm here on business. This is my photographer, Giro Takaeda."

"Oh," Mokuba blinked in surprise and laughed. "I was hoping it was for personal time off. But it's cool, promise you'll do a good job writing about the tournament?"

"I'll do my best." Yuriko tilted her hat back and took in the youth. He was dressed in clothing reminiscent of his older brother, the long coat blowing in the strong wind bringing back a nostalgia from when she used to follow the news on the CEO back in the day. _What is up with the Kaibas and their flowing trench coats?_ "What's the plan for tonight?"

Mokuba checked his watch with eyebrows furrowed in thought. "We leave the pier at the top of the hour. Then it'll be a dinner in the banquet hall along with a briefing of the tournament's rules and schedule."

"What is the prize?" Takaeda interjected, gripping his camera tightly at his chest.

"Five million dollars, the latest Duel Monsters console Kaiba Corp. produced for next year, and a complete Exodia set."

Yuriko raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "I bet that was hard to come by."

"You bet. The cards themselves will be worth more than the rest of the prizes combined." Mokuba turned to the cameraman. "Hey, Takaeda, how about you take a picture of Yuri and me?"

The man blinked then nodded happily. "Of course. If... Ms. Adachi would like?"

Yuriko turned to the younger Kaiba and decided to be a good sport. "Happy to."

Mokuba put an arm around Yuriko as they both grinned to the shutter of the camera. "Let me know whenever the film is developed, I want a copy. Maybe you could even squeeze that in the magazine." Mokuba winked and took a step away. "Let's meet up for dinner! I'll save you and Takaeda a seat at the reception. It's at 6."

"We won't be late," Yuriko called out and waved back. Mokuba cast her a new look, this one more serious as his eyes flashed down to her purse. She took the hint to check her phone as he turned and walked away with coat tails flapping away.

"Would you like to explore the ship, Ms. Adachi?" Takaeda cleared his throat and fiddled with his camera awkwardly. He shuffled his feet while keeping his eyes focused downward.

"I admire the motivation but not now, Takaeda. People will be eager to unpack and relax before tonight. We should do the same. Let's meet up at the banquet hall at 5:30. Til then, enjoy the cruise." She turned and walked away quickly, searching for her cabin.

The ship let out another horn, followed by a soothing voice calling over the speakers, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are making preparations to depart. Please stand clear of all mooring lines while the staff are preparing to bring us underway. We at Kaiba Corp. want to congratulate and thank you for joining us on this journey and adventure. Please refresh yourselves at our dining halls and bars." The voice continued in syrupy sweet monotony. Safety jargon and proper etiquette were instructed while Yuriko counted down the door numbers.

Leaving the outer decks and entering the windowed cabins, Yuriko walked by several bars that were already crowded with people hoping to start the day with a good strong drink. The temptation was powerful, but Yuriko pressed passed the growing masses as she made her way into her private cabin.

She swept into her room and locked the door behind her, sighing in relief at the quiet and privacy. Her room was humble in size, about half the size of her bedroom back in Domino. A small closet was adjacent to the door and another door next to it held the tiny bathroom. Stepping into her new home for the next few months, Yuri took her first timorous steps while taking in the room. The cozy space had a small bed with drawers underneath and a desk leaning against the wall across. A great basket holding a mountain of fruits and treats caught her eye briefly as she briefly ignored it to look toward the large window she was privileged to have. She had a great view of the ocean and the many decks below, seeing balconies from other patrons and what looked like a courtyard.

She returned to facing her belongings; her suitcase had been placed against the bed, the pristine comforter welcoming. Tossing her purse on the bed she turned to the desk. She flicked on the lamp, noting the assorted snacks that had been arranged. A white envelope with curvature handwriting in metallic ink captured her eye.

Straining to read the metallic words in their precise penmanship, her face grew gentle.

" _My Dearest Yuri,_

 _Forgive me for putting you in such a terrible state. It was unbecoming and rude of me. You have every right to be cautious. But believe me, when I tell you I only want you to be well and happy. I hope you and Sora enjoy your time away. Rest assured you will be safe on board._

 _And now I send you words of caution. There are people who would want to hurt you. I fear they are closer than you think. I don't want to upset you, but you must be aware. Stay close to Kaiba boy. He will be able to keep you safe. If you require anything I am a phone call away. Try to enjoy yourself, but keep a watchful eye._

 _With fatherly love,_

 _Max"_

Paranoia was the first pandemic to plague her brain. The next was resignation. Pegasus, it seemed, did what he wanted. When he wanted. And it seemed he had uncovered more than he needed to. Swallowing back the dread and the imploding panic she breathed easily. _It's all in the past. He can't hurt you. There's no one left to hurt you._ The lies did little to soothe her racing heart. The memories were flooding into her ears, resurrecting the ghosts of so many terrors she tried to drown at night. Be it with drink or work or simply pretending it wasn't real-it was her only shield from her own inner weakness. The desire to collapse and to surrender and to simply die was all too compelling.

She sighed and looked down at the rainbow of produce wrapped in cellophane and decorated in shiny ribbons. She ignored the gift to collapse in her bed and sift through her bag for the second cell phone, reading the text messages waiting for her. Both were from Mokuba.

 _I hear you're joining us on the cruise! Tell me if it's true!_

 _Don't forget to bring Sora!_

Despite the pounding drum beat in her ears she was smiling as she imagined the young man eagerly swiping the message on his phone. There was no need to worry. She was on a cruise ship. Surrounded by security. Kaiba Corp. security, for Christ's sake. They better be top notch.

 _And it's not like he could find me. The police are still trying to track him down. It would be suicide if he tried to corner me down. And here of all places. It's been five years. Oh my god it's really been over five years. Five years of the fear; of getting my shit together again._ She shut her eyes and willed herself to calm down. Her head sunk into the soft pillows while her muscles loosened appreciatively in her upper back. She needed to just ease her nerves. _You're free. He won't get you again. You're on a cruise ship to work. You have friends here. You're safe..._

 _He won't hurt you again._

She was relaxing, noticeably. Too relaxed. Falling asleep... _God, I'm so exhausted._ Yuriko was aware that she was floating away, like sea mist on the water.

(Undercover)

The familiar click of her phone's text notification made her jolt upwards as she fumbled for the time. 4:45 PM. No text messages. The confusion wiped clear as she realized it was from the other phone.

 _Mokuba_ , she mused to herself as she touched the screen. She wondered when he would eagerly reply with the onslaught of multiple text messages bombarded her way.

 _I found you._

She gasped and flung her phone from her body, the gadget bouncing off the wall and clattering onto the carpet. She half laughed at herself as she felt her heart beat like a bass drum against her ears. She must have misread the message. She was quick to reclaim the phone to sift through the message. The caller ID stated it was Unknown.

 _What does this person mean? What do they want?_

She trembled with concern and bewilderment. _This phone's for Sora. What does this person mean? What do they want? Unless-they KNOW._

She pressed her fingers to her temple as a headache made its way into her already spinning head. Chaos. Her whole life was nothing but utter disgusting Greek tragedy chaos with some Shakespearean bullshit on top. _He's going to tie me up again. He's going to take that fucking knife and cut me again. He's going to call me his "Little Maiden" and drag me by my hair out of that closet to... to..._

She flew up from her bed and lurched at her bathroom, just barely missing the basin of her sink as she threw up viciously. Her eyes stung at the reflex and the stench of acrid bile made her even more nauseous. And ashamed. So hideously ashamed. Her vision was drowning and blurring. The squeaking sobs she heard were coming from her mouth. She tried to stop the cries by closing her mouth, only to feel the hiccups push up her chest and make a small huff escape her throat. _Shut up. He'll hear you. Shut up. Stop crying. STOP CRYING._

She slapped herself. As hard as she could.

It brought her out of it, with just enough time to collect herself. Remembering where she was and what she was doing she looked down at the mess she made and turned on the faucet. She had to clean herself up. She had to get her shit together. There was a job that needed to get done. She needed to attend the dinner for the introduction. She couldn't afford to miss this.

Yuriko looked at her swollen, angry red eyes that puffed back in a fearful rage. She was the epitome of haggard and imbalanced, even she could clearly see that. Her right cheek was already a bright red and seemed to swell a little. Shit. She doubted ice was going to fix that in time for the banquet. She couldn't have Yuriko Adachi come out with a bruised cheek-Takaeda would freak out. He could even report it to Mr. Marukai. Their office was particularly protective of any physical violence on their employees. How was she going to explain this one? _I tripped and fell and my cheek kissed a door knob. Whoops. Yeah, no one will buy that._

She kept the water running as she poked her head out to look at the suitcase. It would be a simple diversion. A little escape in an escape. Escape-ception. Hide behind Sora, who is also hiding on a cruise ship. Sora wouldn't mind sporting a nice bruise on the face. Sora would probably have a great story to go along with it. She'd laugh off any questions and cleverly make it as acceptable and exotic as a molting peacock. Probably ice the cake with a smart retort and a proud smirk.

Besides, there was a more important issue than her all natural blush application. Who out there thought it was a bright idea to try to threaten her? He would have what's coming to him if she ever found out who he was. Sora wasn't going to cower. Sora wasn't afraid.

Returning to the mirror, taking her glasses off, she saw another person in the reflection. For brief flashes in between blinks her blue eyes flashed to a raging green. She saw someone hardened and strong. Something angry, violent, with nothing more to lose. She was tired of being misplaced and misused. She wasn't going to stand for it anymore. It was time to break free.

With no more concern for trying to put on a facade for the good of the people, Sora turned on the shower to as cold as it possibly allowed. She didn't bother taking her clothes off, only stepping into ice and paralyzing pain. The wind was knocked out of her. She hissed but bit her lip and stayed under the water. Her clothes clung to her skin while goosebumps covered every inch of her. She was shaking but awake. Invigorated. Ready. And she began to scrub at her skin while she blocked the memories. She pushed the fear back.

It was time to let loose and break out of the chains she put herself in. What the world put her in. What he had put her in.

(Undercover)

Kaiba sat at the head table with Mokuba at his right. Further down the long rectangle held the business associates of Kaiba Corp. as well as Mokuba's selected group of friends. Supposedly, the Sakura Star reporter, Adachi, was supposed to have joined them with her assistant for the banquet. But all this insanity started with her calling Mokuba to inform him that she wouldn't be attending. Kaiba wondered exactly when the night turned from some tedious PR stunt to some pathetic American reality show brawl down, but he recounted the past hour as one of the most interesting moments of his life. Interesting as in agonizing to watch but also morbidly funny all at the same time.

"That's too bad," Mokuba had responded on his cell, his face distorted with worry and disappointment. "Do you need some medicine? ...uh-huh. Well, feel better soon. Try lemon juice. You sure about no medicine? I can get you some... oh, okay then. Get some sleep. I hope you're better tomorrow." He had hung up with a lowered shoulder while turning to the small man with the camera dangling around his neck. It was a tacky accessory to bring to the dinner table. Clearly the man had little understanding of social etiquette. _What do you expect from tabloid reporters?_

"Oh, well... uh... Mr. Kaiba, I'm sorry," the man was bowing profusely to Mokuba, grovelling and blinking behind his thick magnifying glasses. "Ms. Adachi has never been on a ship before. She sends her deepest apologies."

"You've said that, already. How about not catching yourself on a loop and try to talk about something more than your weak stomached boss."

Mokuba's elbow jabbed into his arm, catching him off guard. He cast him a questioning stare, his little brother looking displeased. The 'you're not being nice' glare rarely had him change his demeanor. But it did make him keep his tongue in check for the time being.

The chubby otaku shrimp looked down at his food with a red face and a quivering lower lip. He was practically about to bawl. It disgusted him. To think people like him were capable of breaking past security and invading his privacy made hate coil like a snake in his gut.

"Seto, is that Sora?" Mokuba's question electrocuted his aggression into wariness. Briefly scanning the room, his eyes landed on the pale girl. He recognized her hand on her hip, the bob of dark hair wild. As she walked past the many round tables of guests she seemed to purposely not look in his direction. It made him want to laugh; the shameless red in her cheek while diverting his eyes...

But it hadn't been a blush that dressed her skin. As he studied her face, he noticed one cheek seemed... fatter than the other. The disfigurement brought his spine to a chilled vibration as he patiently waited for her to turn her head just a few inches for him to get a better view.

A man stepped in her way. He grinned and waved at an empty seat. His silent words on his lips became Kaiba's personal cinema. _Like she'd dine with the likes of you,_ he scoffed for half a second until he was silenced by Sora's nod and beaming agreement. She swayed slightly, as though about to fall over on her heels. She was drunk. Again.

He took in her unkempt hair, her dress that seemed tighter than she normally would have allowed. _You're classier than that, Sora,_ he mentally scolded as his anger festered while she sat and began a conversation with the man.

He didn't touch the rest of his meal from then on. Glaring openly at the table where Sora laughed loudly and sipped down wine glass after wine glass to the ecstatic glee of the predatory male in front of her made Kaiba feel physically sick. _What's gotten into her? Why would she waste her time with that fuck face?_

"You okay, Seto?" Mokuba had asked him that all night. It had been a constant worry filled intrique, and it was starting to wear him down.

"I'm fine, Mokuba. How much longer do we have?" Looking over at his nearest employee who stood at the corner of his eye in attention, he was starting to think it a good idea to have fuck face escorted out of the banquet hall. But he didn't need to cause a scene. Especially with a cameraman sitting five chairs away from him.

"Fifteen minutes." Mokuba checked his wrist watch, a Louis Moinet, glistening in the dim overhead light. He bought it for his birthday this year. The glossy art piece provided a soothing distraction to the migraine that was forming inside his skull. The sure hand that touched his arm broke through his agonizing panic, falling away into a smile looking up at him. Still, despite how much he had grown, he still looked up to him. His brother whispered, "She's not serious with that guy. I promise."

"What makes you think I care?" Incapable of resisting the urge to glance back at her, her slender long back still giving him the cold shoulder-why won't she turn so he can see her face?!-while resting her chin in her hand and seemingly enthralled by such riveting conversation from fuck face.

"Well, I've only seen you make a face like that at Pegasus. And Gozaboro. But never at some random guy before."

Kaiba lowered his eyes and gnashed his teeth. He wished the people at the table would include him in some distracting conversation. Be it about work, Duel Monsters, hell, he'd talk about swiss cheese if it was engaging enough for him not to think for a few seconds. Just a few seconds.

But no, his associates were in their own heated political debate he couldn't force himself to join last minute. To his right, his brother kept throwing glances and smiles his way for reassurance. But they were all Mokuba's friends to his right. He could only look straight out to the great hall of guests and crew, the regale chandeliers that sparkled like precision cut diamonds reflecting in optical splendor. He tried not to think about her. Normally, he'd be pleased to not be forced to conversation and pretend he was giving a damn about the state of some country that could potentially cut into profit by a mere tenth of a percentage. Now, he was secretly praying for a distraction.

But with no way to help keep his attentions away he focused on what was in front of him. He stared at the back of a tight black dress and a pink skinned, giggling Sora. His eyes flashed to the rich burgundy carpet, royal hues in the table cloths, and suddenly they were back to looking at doe eyed, flushed lipped, flirty Sora. He threw his gaze away to study the elegant clad men and women all dining and cavorting like oblivious birds preening about in their splendor. And as though he head no control of his body his eye balls were pulled to the fluid movements of an enthralled Sora.

He hated everything in that room. He wished he could simply fade away in the background. Despite his efforts to distract himself, she was driving his mind to an agonizing sprint. He just had to keep looking at her. But what he saw was driving him insane.

He looked away from her and tried to focus on the other faces in the crowd. The geek squad, dressed in their second hand suits were shoveling food in their mouths while making childish faces at each other. A few recognizable figures from his corporation as well as previous tournaments crossed his vision. But the social isolation, which he normally preferred, was smothering him. He wanted more than anything for her to come and talk to him. To ditch that classless pig and take a seat at his table instead.

"Seto," Mokuba had whispered while pointing at his watch. The time had come, it seemed, and not a moment too soon. At least public speech called for quiet out of respect. He just wanted her to stop looking at fuck face and bring her soulful orange-gold irises to him.

"Fellow Duelists," he called out, his voice carried with the command and authority he had perfected with so many years of experience. The wave of softening voices was a cool breeze on the hottest noon. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces on this ship. It's been ten years since The Grand Prix, and to this day, Yugi Muoto reigns as King of Games." The applause was salt in his wounds but he kept his smirk strong. He'd get his chance to duel Yugi again. He'd defeat him this time. Takaeda's camera flashed and clicked its rhythm of thunder and lightning. "For this week, get acquainted. Relax. Be comfortable. Once we arrive to Hawaii we will begin the duels. If you look around, you'll see-"

"FUCK. OFFFFF!" The sharp sound of a slap and a scream erupted like a bomb in the room, filling it with an awkward silence as everyone turned to the girl standing and screeching.

The murmurs around them did nothing to stop Sora Freud from taking her wine glass and poured it over the smoldering pursuant's head before throwing it at the ground with a crass shrug. The shatter of glass fascinated Kaiba, and he looked at the ruby red liquid spread thin over the tile as the man that had apparently offended her stood in paralyzed shock.

"So you think you've found me, huh?!" The words she screamed at the wide eyed man were deranged and misplaced for him to understand what she was talking about. He didn't know where the sudden violent confrontation came from, but he assumed it was a built up storm she had unleashed that night. She was stinking drunk. Slurring and stumbling with her lips stained purple from Sangiovese; Behold, Sora Freud eau de toilette: with notes of red wine and complete hysteria. And more flashes and shutter clicks erupted at Kaiba's side. The fucking cameraman was firing his weapon away, every flash like a gunshot. Each gunshot a dent in Kaiba Corp's prestige.

"You crazy bitch," the man shouted back at her, wiping his brow and flinging his wine soaked hands at the ground with a slough. "What's wrong with you?"

Sora blinked and looked at him in distrust. She seemed lost in her mind; frozen in a fugue state. Security had arrived and gently touched her shoulder. She hissed and leaped away from them, running briskly out of the room. The guards looked at their boss for instruction. He shook his head to have them stand down.

"Mokuba, take over." Kaiba went after her, ignoring the flashes at his back and the growing murmur that filled the great banquet hall like the buzz of an angry bee hive. He knew this would cause a stir. But he'd worry about it later.

Mokuba cleared his throat, "Ladies, Gentlemen! Please excuse the interruption! We'd like to acknowledge some returning champions who have joined us for this tournament! But first, let's pop some champagne!"

Leaving behind the crowd's newfound applause and cheers, Kaiba caught up with Sora just as she escaped to the outside decks. She was breathing heavily, her shoulders trembling. He kept a safe distance, not wanting to scare her. He was at a loss of words. Well, not really. He had a lot to say but figured now was not the time. "Freud."

She flinched and slowly turned to him. The dim ship lighting cast an amber glow on her that made her look like she was in a film of sepia. Her chest was rising up and down heavily, a vein popping at her throat. There was something feral about her. She was beyond scared. She looked terrified.

"Sora." Kaiba held a hand out to her. She was leaning against the railing. It made him uncomfortable. "Sora, can you take a step away from that? I don't want you to get hurt."

She breathlessly giggled like a throaty hyena. She shook her head. And began to sob. Eyes clenched tight while water gushed down her cheeks she shivered and kept shaking her head. "I'm so scared." She whispered.

"Why?" He kept his hand held out, his heart pounding faster.

"Because he's going to get me."

He suppressed the strong urge to shiver, still not sure what happened. "He won't get you. I won't let him." He took a careful step toward her. He was slow and gentle, not wanting to spook her. "Let me help you." She sniffled and bit back another sob. After some waffling with hand outstretched, she took his hand. Her skin was ice cold and sweaty. She's going to get sick. He took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. "You can stay in my cabin. Or I can have security guard yours."

She hiccuped and rubbed her cheeks roughly. "I'll go to your room."


	14. The Escape

So sorry it's been FOREVER since I posted regularly. I'm starting to get back into the swing of things. I'm trying to just press on and get a chapter out as often as I can. If there's any inconsistencies, let me know. It's been so long since I started the story so my facts/notes may be all jumbled. This whole project is a bit of a mess haha it wasn't meant to be taken seriously but it became a dark and serious story.

Thanks again to everyone for their messages and kind words. I really appreciate it.

(Undercover)

Sora could only describe Kaiba's "captain's quarters" as one word. Decadent.

Crystals dangled from brass lighting fixtures and sparkled across her vision like tiny tinker bells dancing in the light. Brown leather sofas as rich in hue as melted chocolate were at the corner. Dark forest green carpets and landscape paintings of stormy skies and majestic cliffs met her eyes. Despite the seafarer theme of her personal cabin, this room consisted of earthy browns and vibrant greens. Open doors down a narrow hallway revealed a large bed and drawers while another showed a clean bathroom. Sora studied the large oak desk with its neatly stacked papers and laptop whirling its little fan merrily. It was too far to see but she caught snippets of schematics and the words, "Duel Disk V3" and "Crystal Cloud Network".

"If you're still hungry I can have food brought up here." Kaiba cleared his throat and loosened his tie. Sora whirled around at the tired looking CEO. He began undoing his cuff links as he went to the couches and collapsed into one. "Though knowing you, I'll call up wine."

She blinked as her contacts dried up. Her head was spinning slowly but her heart wasn't fluttering any more. "You don't care for my drinking."

"Under my supervision, it's fine. But not when you're off flirting with some fuck face in front of me." His glare brought a chill in the air. Sora kept blinking hard and rubbing her tear caked eyes. In a shameful puppy dog shuffle she scuttled to the seat across from him and gingerly sat down. She looked cautious and sheepish at the same time. After a few seconds of silence, Kaiba snapped, "What's your problem?"

"What's yours?" Her face grew hot as she felt a mix of rage and embarrassment. "So what if I flirt with a guy in front of you? We're not dating." He stared at her blankly, as though her words weren't in a language he understood. She half laughed and quickly added, "We're friends at most! Besides, so what if I'm flirting with other guys? It's not like I'd have a right to be upset if you paraded around with one of your supermodel arm warmers."

Kaiba snorted and grimaced as he fought away a smirk. "You'd be devastated if I did that. But unlike you, I think things through."

"That last part is true," Sora conceded, "But I promise I wouldn't care if you were being smothered to death by a horde of naked Amazons."

His eyebrow lifted slightly. He leaned forward with his folded hands to his mouth as he softly asked, "You've been watching too many Axe commercials." He had a glint in his eye and his shoulders were slightly trembling. He was laughing at her.

She grabbed the nearest projectile to fling it at him. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it was just an overstuffed pillow that missed its target and hit the bookshelves behind him. Thankfully, nothing fragile broke. "You, sir, are an imbecile. An idiot. Stupid!" She giggled briefly before covering her mouth and trying to stop. She felt significantly relieved. Safe. Like she was at home.

He smirked. "I disagree. I've got you right where I want you." He looked away. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't go making me feel like a fool in front of everyone. What you did back there was humiliating."

More face heat followed by a gut punch of guilt coursed through her body. "I'm sorry."

Kaiba nodded, adding, "You seem to be doing better." His sapphire eyes darkened to a deep abyss blue. "The man that hurt you. How did he find you?"

"I don't know." Sora pulled out her cell phone, pulling up the message from the unknown caller. "I received this earlier today." Kaiba took the phone from her, his eyes quickly darting across the phone. He began to sift through more information but Sora swiped the phone from him and shot a dirty scowl at him. "There's nothing else important to see."

(Undercover)

His fingers still vibrated with the sensation that he was supposed to be holding something. Yet his hand was empty save for the sharp sting from one of her fingernails when she swiped the phone quicker than he would have credited her for.

"There's nothing else important to see."

Huh. Well that is what sane people call an overreaction.

Kaiba put his empty hand down and studied her. Her dark hair had been styled like a wild fern. Or maybe it was just her instability that gave her the frazzled look. Her bloodshot eyes and heavy breathing made her look like a junkie jonesing for a fix. She looked better than earlier at the balcony and precariously close to going over the side. She looked like she was going to jump. That had scared him. He didn't plan on leaving her alone tonight.

Normally, he wouldn't waste his time with a basket case. He'd have his security detain and remove her, had she been anyone else. He had much more important matters to attend. But Sora... Sora was someone he had a taste of and needed to buy the scoop. Not just in his attraction, which he still couldn't find a rational reason for, but also in the fact that somehow he cared. He cared about what was happening to her just as much as he cared about what had happened to her. He feared what would happen to her.

Though, he admitted, her getting drunk and being an idiot was getting old. He considered having her admitted for mental care. But besides the legality issues he wondered if he could forgive himself for doing that to someone who wasn't a harm to others. He believed that everyone had a right to live their lives as they choose. And before he met her, he never cared if the person wanted to waste their life away. It meant less competition for him. But now it was different.

"I'm going to get some water." She stood up, pulling down at her skimpy dress that had ridden up. She was still very drunk, though functional. Slightly swaying, red skinned, and glassy eyed, Sora slowly went to the kitchenette to help herself. He took the opportunity to study her red blister scarred upper thighs and the roughened red of damaged skin. That dress did little to cover up the damage. As she leaned over the sink to pour herself a glass of water he could just make out what looked like healed stitches below her armpits. Those many superficial injuries looked intentional. His muscles all tightened in anger as he discovered more about her abuse.

The idea that someone out there hurt her filled him with hot lava and smoke. He clenched his jaw and sharply inhaled to keep his demeanor cool. True, she was insane. But someone made her that way. She was broken.

"You can sleep in my room tonight." Kaiba got to his feet and went to retrieve some clothes she could cover up and sleep in. "Feel free to use the shower, if you want."

"Thanks." Her voice was soft but right behind him as he pulled drawers and pulled out some silk pajamas. He rued never investing in more generic sleeping wear than his expensive tastes allowed as he handed her the shiny light blue pants and shirt. Her face lit up and she giggled, taking his clothes and fleeing to the bathroom. He covered his face, wanting the feeling of embarrassment to evaporate or at least willed himself to disappear.

(Undercover)

Sora let the warm water loosen her shoulder muscles as she slowly relaxed and washed her hair. She'd have to put the wig back on before she left, but it was nice to take it off for now. She didn't plan on sleeping the night.

As soon as Kaiba fell asleep she was sneaking away. That was the plan.

She had gone overboard, she knew. It was more mortifying than she could express, having to stay in with Kaiba after her little explosion. She had just needed to relieve pressure. And my, did the kettle almost burst. She had made a mess of things. And here she was, again, back in a situation she wished she hadn't gotten herself in.

She hoped she didn't give away too much. But this situation was just like last time. And she had been so lucky, before. He bought her story before, but she doubted he'd buy another lie too. She bit her lip and fumed at herself. _Idiot. You stupid idiot._

She sighed and tried to come up with an escape plan. She couldn't jump out the windows, they were simple circled glass welded into the steel walls of the ship. She'd have to go out the front door. Past the couch where she assumed Kaiba would lay.

 _How would the damsel escape the guard of the great dragon?_ She snickered at her fantasy. _Why, she must slay the dragon._

A nagging feeling of professional sloppiness scolded her as she rinsed off the soap. She had an opportunity to interview Seto Kaiba. And she kept blowing it with her own baggage.

 _I'd appreciate it if you didn't go making me feel like a fool in front of everyone._

She turned off the water, trying to distract the waterfall of emotions pouring over her. She should feel flattered. Ecstatic. Seto Kaiba was interested in her. This was every girl's dream come true: Win the heart of a rich, handsome, powerful CEO. Some drama, a little BDSM and it was fifty shades of Kaiba.

A part of her was thrilled. A legend of a man that she admired for years was interested in her. But that feeling was laced with the burdening dread she didn't understand. She was afraid. Not of him. But what would happen if she stayed around him. She wasn't sure if it was from what happened or just because it was Seto freaking Kaiba. As she towel dried her long white hair she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked alien with the brown contacts and platinum hair. She hadn't bothered trying to preserve any of the other details that created Sora. The lash extensions were already peeled off her eye lids, revealing snowy lashes framing fake irises. The makeup was scrubbed off and the pale complexion underneath was all white and pink with no cream to contour and shape her face. She'd have to leave the bathroom soon. But she didn't want to see the look on Kaiba's face at the complete un-makeover of Sora.

In procrastination, she opened the medicine cabinet, curiosity fully engaged. She noted shaving creams and razors neatly organized. She lit up and went to open and sniff a bottle of aftershave, pleased to find it full of the cinnamon and sandalwood that he exuded. After inhaling healthy lungfuls of the sweet and sensual scents she put the bottle back. Her eyes had caught the familiar bright orange of prescription bottle plastic.

She pulled out the single bottle, studying the contents. Strange white pills that appeared sugar coated shined through the translucent orange. She read the prescription, noting it was Suvorexant. Recommended use: 1 Pill Daily, as needed as sleeping aid.

She wasn't surprised. She figured Kaiba would be stressed beyond belief and probably suffered insomnia. She was astonished to find that the bottle looked completely full. He didn't seem to be taking them. She contemplated opening the bottle and taking some herself. She figured, she could slip one in his drink to help make her escape easier. Or use them on herself on a sleepless night. But she shook her head, not wanting to keep building the tower of bad karma that was her existence.

The bathroom door gently knocked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Yuriko cleared her throat and continued to towel her hair quickly. She looked around the tiny little square of a washroom for a hair dryer. Pulling it out from a cabinet below the sink she plugged it in and cranked it on full blast. She wanted to dry as much of her hair as she could before she shoved it all back in the wig cap.

She completed the Sora: DeGlam look while careful to pull and fluff at the artificial hair to make it look freshly blow dried. The silk pajamas were large and comfortable. The silk was as smooth as water.

Opening the door, she poked her head out to sneak a peak at the exit. "The bed is behind you." She tensed and careened her head over her shoulder. Kaiba had changed into his sleeping attire, a darker blue set that matched her own. She held the air in her cheeks as she tried not to cackle at the situation. She was half afraid and half hysterical at the absurdity of the situation. She was careful to cover as much of her face as possible.

"I find nothing funny about this." Kaiba scowled. "These pajamas are more than what you make in a day." Sora let out a series of crow caws, holding her lower stomach and buckling over. "Go to sleep." Kaiba sounded done with her shenanigans.

She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled up at him. "I do appreciate all of this." She awkwardly gave him a quick hug, pulling away and keeping her smile. "Thank you."

Kaiba looked away. "If you need me, I'll be on the couch."

She quickly turned her face away and entered the bedroom, relieved that he hadn't noticed the finer features of her true face.

(Undercover)

Sora did her best to stay still. It would have been hard, even if she had planned on sleeping there, to fall asleep. Kaiba had insisted she keep the door open to the bedroom. She at first argued but he wouldn't hear anything of it. He didn't trust her, that was obvious. But he also didn't feel she was safe to be alone. That made her feel like a nutjob. And she hated that.

She tried to slowly roll over and curl into a ball as she kept her breathing slow and gentle. She had sobered up significantly in the past four hours. Her head pounded with every beat of her heart. Her muscles were sore. Her tongue was cotton. And she needed to get out of there.

She slowly sat up, trying to hear for some soft snoring or at least some heavy breathing. Kaiba slept as still and quiet as a statue. _Creepy_ , she thought. Maybe he wasn't really asleep. It's not like he's taking his medicine.

She now wished she had somehow drugged him when she had the chance. Every soft rustle of the Egyptian cotton bed sheets and the softest groan of her foot pressing against the wooden floor boards made her stomach sink.

She moved with an urgency and carefulness of an art thief. Her dress and purse were clutched to her chest as she made her escape.

She made progress past the bathroom and into the living room, freezing at the dark lump on the couch. She could hear his breathing but he looked completely still. Holding her breath she tip toed by. The lights from outside shined through the circle windows and cast shadows around her that reminded her of nightmares and boogeymen. When she reached the door her fingers wrapped around the cold steel of the knob. She precariously turned it, the click of the knob's lock popping out making her wince. Kaiba didn't stir.

She slowly opened the door a crack. It was just wide enough to squeeze through it. As she shimmied one leg through she squeezed the rest of herself by.

"Have a good night," Kaiba called out, his voice wide awake and alert.

She almost tripped falling out of the room, double timing into a sprint toward the nearest ladder well. She ran as though she felt the boogeyman at her heels until she reached her cabin. Every time she looked over her shoulder, she never saw him. After the initial startle, she couldn't help but feel the small pang of disappointment when he didn't give chase.

(Undercover)

"Roland." Kaiba sat up on the couch, cell phone in hand. "Sora Freud just left my cabin. Inform the staff to keep an eye on her. And if there are any suspicious characters on board, detain them immediately."

"Yes, sir. I'm watching her approach the first class cabins. Uh, should I consider Ms. Freud a suspicious character?"

"No."

Kaiba hung up and gathered his blankets and went to the bedroom, feeling like a haggard shell. He had already expected she would sneak off. He tried to sleep but he smelled hair spray and soap on the pillows. The sheets were still warm with the presence of her. He tried not to let his mind get lost in the thought of her as he willed himself to sleep.

 _He was falling. The butterfly in stomach rush followed with the ache of falling on his back. The pain made him believe this wasn't a dream. But he knew better._

 _Sand, cool and grainy, ran through his fingers as he felt the ground and pushed himself to his feet. Despite the night, it was far from dark. Surrounded by fire and screams he found himself in chaos. A village in flames and the familiar roar of his prize possession. He looked upward to the great silvery light of the dragon's mighty being. Blue eyes that glowed with the intensity of the sun reined down lightning shouts and flapped its giant wings._

 _Debris and wind surrounded him in a twister of violence. He could see children running and screaming; Mothers holding their babes to their chest as they tried to shield their young from the rage of the dragon._

 _"She is angry!" One man yelled over the noise of sonic booms and thunder._

 _Kaiba shielded his eyes as sand stung and itched them. He could barely make out the Blue Eyes White Dragon as it continued its onslaught. It was destroying the village with indiscretion. It kept raining down plasma and white fire onto the people below._

 _"Why is she doing this?" Another woman cried out as she ran away._

 _Kaiba could only stand and stare at the catastrophic damage. It didn't look like the place would survive after the dragon had its fill. A growing sense of worry and personal responsibility fell on him. The dragon was his. And somehow he had lost control. It was going to destroy everything._

 _Why?_

 _He grit his teeth, unable to think of a solution. He looked around, hoping something more modern or at least useful would be available. Maybe he could order it to calm down. Maybe he could control it._

 _"She cannot be controlled." A voice, powerful and strong, penetrated the screams and rang in Kaiba's ears. A familiar figure, draped in his robes and turban approached Kaiba through the storm. He was like a mirage. A spirit._

 _"Then how do we stop her?" Kaiba yelled out over the whirling gusts._

 _"She is in pain. This is a cry for help." He held his hand out toward the dragon as it rained another burst of incinerating energy onto one of the last remaining buildings. It exploded into splinters and fire. "She is lost and afraid. She needs you."_

 _"How?" Kaiba tried to yell out more questions but the storm had completely muted him. He couldn't hear himself over the screams of the wind and villagers. The dragon above had seen him and was about to unleash another attack directly at him._

Kaiba awoke, sweaty and shaken, his senses disoriented and his heart pounding. The sun had already begun peaking through the windows as the gentle rocking of the ship lulled him to calm. It was another day. There was so much to be done. He ignored his dreams and got out of bed, ready to ignore his nightmares with work.

(Undercover)

 **LOVE TRIANGLE? KAIBA DEFENDS FREUD HONOR! A DRAMATIC ESCAPE WITH THE CEO IN TOW.**

 **Sora Freud has struck again, this time at the banquet hall of Seto Kaiba's newest tournament! She managed to pull the Kaiba Corp. CEO away from the opening introduction after a dramatic and emotional moment during dinner.**

She paused her typing to catch her breath. Yuriko winced as her head throbbed, going to sip at her water while trying to avoid another trip to her toilet. She had ibuprofen in her veins and she was still waiting for Takaeda to get back to her about the photographs he managed to take last night.

"Ms. Yuriko, last night was crazy!" Takaeda had breathlessly tried to relay to her in her hungover stupor, "Sora was flirting with a gentleman at the opening banquet until something drove her to pour wine over his head and run screaming out. Kaiba followed her, quickly, completely interrupting his speech to tend to her. Mokuba Kaiba had to take over and did well. I have pictures of what occurred at the hall but security wouldn't let me leave. I'm sorry I couldn't get any pictures of what happened after. Perhaps you could contact her and get some insight-"

"Thank you, Takaeda," Yuriko croaked as she winced away another pound of her head. It was like someone was using her skull as a bass drum. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. "Sora agreed to fill me in on the details. I'll have the latest scoop sent to Mr. Marukai. How soon can you have the pictures ready?"

"In an hour. I'll have them filtered and send you as many options as you can. What's the mood of the article?"

Yuriko sighed. "Dark. Dark's always attracting more readers. Make it look as sensational as you can." _Might as well make the most of this whole situation._ She ignored the guilt that ate at her heart like sulfuric acid.

"Are you feeling better, Ms. Adachi? You still sound seasick."

"I'm getting better, thank you. I'll be able to begin interviewing the notable tournament competitors in a few hours. I just need to get my bearings."

"I understand. Feel better soon."

"Thanks." Yuriko hung up and rested her head on the desk, questioning her life choices.


	15. The Redemption

"Hey, Ian," Yuriko had found a pocket of privacy at the aft sponson with a view of the setting sun. The fantail was all ahead flank. Water and mist were bursting out to the rear of the ship's backside in a metaphor that she would normally giggle at. But despite the sparkling ocean and the happy passengers where she was among she felt like a little shadow in the light. "How's it going?"

"Can't complain." He sounded like his normal carefree self. No sign of his troubles from earlier. He never mentioned again what he meant with what he had said about his father. She knew better than to ask. "Sorry again about being such a brat before you left."

"That's okay. It sounded like you had a lot on your plate." She liked watching the water. The blue liquid was glittering and fresh. Sea foam spread across the gentle waves. The horizon was a palette of brilliant oranges and pinks. She felt like she had fallen into a painting.

"Yeah. Sounds like you do, too. Sakura Star keeps the public informed on the 'Exclusive' Around the World Tournament." She let his sardonic tone slide. "How are you and Sora?"

"I'm a lot better." She looked around to make sure she had no potential eavesdroppers loitering too close. She changed languages as an extra precaution. She doubted many people on the cruise spoke English. "Sora... certainly is causing some problems."

"Yeah. You somewhere private?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Well, tell Sora to be careful. It doesn't sound like she's in a safe place. You and I both want what's best for her. Maybe she should get off at the next port and come back to Domino."

"Ian, she was freaking out. She got a text from him. He's back. And he found her."

Silence. Then, "I'm meeting you in Hawaii."

"No. Don't. Besides, you won't be able to get aboard. Security is strict and it doesn't sound like Kaiba will do any favors for your sake. This tournament's too big of a deal."

"Even if my dear sweet cousin, Sora, is scared and in danger?" He snapped, "I don't give a fuck about the Sakura Star. And neither should you. And to hell with Kaiba's tournament. You're in danger! You think I'm just going to take it here in Japan? Absolutely not. Have you notified the police? Even Kaiba knowing is better than no one else. Or is he prioritizing his precious tournament over your safety?"

"Of course I told police. I called them this morning. But the they can't do anything. They think I'm crazy. Or that it's a prank. And, yes, I told Kaiba as well. Kaiba promised he won't let anything bad happen to her. He is very concerned for her safety as well."

"Well, let's hope that's what it is. I never thought I'd say this but stay close to Kaiba. He's the only guy I'd believe can protect you. But I'm coming to the port calls. When are you due to Pearl Harbor?"

"Ian. It's going to be all right. Please, don't come." She felt her heart beat as she worried about any more trouble. Ian's heart was in the right place but she didn't feel comforted knowing he was coming. "I don't want you to."

"Ouch. Well, if you're sure." He sounded uncertain, but cowed.

"I am. Thank you, Ian. I've got to go."

"Uh-huh. Later." He hung up first, short and abrupt.

Yuriko looked down at her phone, a feeling of remorse washing over her. Maybe she should have let him come.

"Well," A familiar voice called behind her. She stiffened as she recognized who it was. _No._

"Beauty AND brains. Didn't know you were bilingual, Adachi." The voice went from smooth Japanese to precise English. " _Where did you learn to speak so well?"_

Yuriko slowly turned to face him. Mischief in bottle green eyes shined across his smiling face. His eyeliner was penciled down, the end of the point just above a dimple from his half smile half glimmer.

"Mr. Otogi. Always a pleasure." She put her phone away; tucking her hair behind her ears. Despite how much she loathed him her self consciousness would skyrocket whenever he was in sight.

"Indeed it is. How's your blazer that got coated in creamer?"

"Donated. I got some tax breaks on the last charity donation I participated in."

"Interesting. Tell, me," Ryuji Otogi leaned close into her, his mouth just barely brushing her ear. "Maybe that's why I saw a particularly attractive black cocktail dress worn by Sora Freud last night. And another occasion, I remember Sora's taste in red laced heels. They reminded me of some clothes you had a preference to. The last Duel Dice media meeting? The Duel Monsters Christmas Festival? I'm good with fashion tastes." He looked like he had her. A grinning cat with its injured bird. She was busted.

(Undercover)

Kaiba was ready to fire every single one of the men inside his office.

"So you're telling me you lost track of Sora Freud after she went into Yuriko Adachi's cabin?"

Roland bowed his head, humiliation and anxiety pulling his cheeks back in a grimace. "Sir, we are still observing the outside of the cabin door. There's no other way she could have left. She has to be in there."

"It's been three days and you're telling me she hasn't set foot outside the cabin since?"

"That is what my men have reported."

Kaiba leaped to his feet, ready to strangle him. "You honestly believe she would just stay put for that long? I think it's more believable that one of these men might have blinked a little too slowly and she managed to get out and leave your camera's viewpoint."

"Sir, that is very unlikely. You have my word."

"Then where is she?"

"We're actively searching, sir. We are conducting regular inspections of cabins as a security measure. We will also search Yuriko Adachi's cabin for any sign of her once we can get a consensual agreement."

"She better be safe and well. Or I swear... you'll regret ever working for me."

"We'll find her, sir." Roland bowed and turned to leave, the three other men following at his heels with heads bowed in shame.

"And when you do find her bring her to me." Kaiba gripped his fists and pounded one against his desk. He lost her. He couldn't believe something as simple as just actively watching her be such a difficult task? _This is why you do things yourself._ He needed to track her down. If they returned empty handed then who knows what could have happened.

 _Maybe she was taken. Maybe she's in danger._

He couldn't believe how lenient he had been with her. He had let her go. And clearly that was a terrible mistake. She was either off unmonitored and therefore unprotected. Or she had been already found by her demons. And all because he had lost her.

Not knowing where she was was the worst part. She could be anywhere in the world after three days. He couldn't go to where she was and rescue her because he had no idea who took her or if she just disappeared like she usually did.

"Seto! Calm down. Sora's been texting me. I promise." Mokuba held up his cell phone, showing the words.

"I need to lay eyes on her, Mokuba. For all we know someone's just using her phone to try to make us think she's fine."

"We can track its GPS."

"It won't be accurate," Kaiba ran his fingers through his hair. "Even if it was on the ship. We can't pinpoint where on the ship it will be. And our signal this far out to sea isn't reliable."

Mokuba bit his lip, typing away on his phone. "She said she can't meet right now, but tonight." He looked up in relief. "There, she can't be a fake."

"We'll see," Kaiba growled.

(Undercover)

Panic. Sweat. Fear. She could practically smell the emotions seeping out of her pores. She felt nauseous and itchy. As though ants were crawling and biting all across her skin. _My purse! I left it in that club. That's how he knows._ Time had stood still. She had become a glass statue, off balance. She was about to fall over and shatter.

"Ms. Adachi? Care to explain?" He smiled innocently.

Yuriko gripped her fists and inhaled sharply. She couldn't help but smugly grin at him."You should read the Sakura Star more. Sora Freud is a friend of mine. She's borrowed clothes from me many times."

"Friend? Or informant?" Otogi laughed, posing in a state of victory. "I'm not dumb. I know the game. How much has our little Sora made from all the black widow traps she's placed on Duel Monsters champions?"

"Wait. What?" Yuriko wanted to let out an equally humored "HA!" at the silly man while the sweat on her temple began to evaporate. He didn't know the truth. The relief was only half tasted until she shot an incredulous stare at the game store owner. "Seriously? Sora isn't a 'black widow' trapping all the men in this industry." Folding her arms she bared her teeth in a malicious sneer, "Last I checked, she wasn't interested in you. So why do you even care what she's up to?"

Duke twirled a strand of hair around his fingers while a small smile of coyness escaped his act. "Well it seems that I'm found out. I have no idea what your relationship with Sora Freud is. But I always feel the need to intervene when a damsel is in distress. Call me old fashioned. Sora has captured my attentions. And that's why I'm so interested in her. I've read she's a riot. Unconventional. And is the current hot topic. She's got this energy people crave. In fact, her personality is perfect for your line of work. She always has some scandal associated with her. Wouldn't you agree?" He looked up at Yuriko with a stiff frown and a hesitant question on his face. "The only person who gets to tell any of the news about Domino City's current bad girl is you. I'm wondering why? Are you two friends?"

It felt like she was taking a slight imperfection in her very soul and was pulling at it. And out comes the strands of yarn. Bit by bit as words escaped her mouth in lies, so did the string get pulled out of her soul. She was unraveling her very morale fiber as she began speaking. "She's a friend." She writ her eyebrows together in a worried expression. "She's alone in this big bad world. The world is against her but she stands her ground and laughs into the face of all who oppose her. She's strong and fearless. She's power. No one will ever take it away from her. Never as long as her heart beats will she ever become a victim. She's someone I wish I could be." Yuriko felt the corner of her eyes sting and she reddened from the embarrassment of how real and raw her feelings were. She had come undone. She had opened herself up.

"It sounds like you care for her." Otogi pulled out of his vest pocket a handkerchief. He held it out with a peaceful beam. "And for what it's worth, she reminds me of you."

Yuriko took the fuzzy cloth and dabbed her eyes. "How?"

"Well," Otogi let out a laugh. "It's going to sound kind of lame, but it was more of a look that you both have. During that wonderful time you interviewed me. I made you stand on your hands and recite kotozawa. You gave this defiant stare at me. For Sora, that's her resting face."

Yuriko sniffed and failed to hide her amused sobs as she cried softly into the little towel. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He looked over his shoulder, gesturing to the recliners facing a wall of glass. "You want to have a seat? We have an interview to finish." It was getting windy. She took a wary seat with her eyes glued to the distant waters. He kept smiling at her, no hint of harm or trouble coming from him. Despite this, she kept her guard up.

"I published the exclusive months ago."

"I read. I didn't care for the light you colored me in. I want a redo." Ryuji Otogi flipped his long ponytail over his shoulder while throwing a wink. "I want another chance."

Yuriko raised an eyebrow, taking out of her canvas bag her notepad. _What does he want?_ She couldn't figure out if he knew the truth or if he had some other ulterior motive that drove him to still have her presence be involved in his life. "Mr. Otogi, our last interview had been an interesting one. Care to comment as to... what the fuck?"

His laughter was like a distinct echo off a canyon. "Honestly, I hate the paparazzi. I can't so much as get a cup of coffee without having to fight off a swarm of photographers and reporters. I wanted to get back at one of you. I now regret putting you through all that. I'd like the record to show that when you approached me for the interview you weren't being very polite or graceful, either. Back then, you came off as pushy and entitled. I wanted to take you down a peg."

She looked down into her lap, her notepad scrawled with shorthand notes and keywords she subconsciously scribbled. This was a completely different experience than their last interview. For one, she was upright; her dignity intact. Another, he seemed at ease and relaxed. Not the intense vengeance-seeking psycho she had known him to be.

He rambled on, clearly enjoying talking about himself. "...And to answer the question to your last interview, my favorite flavor ice cream is pistachio."

"Right." What were the big questions people wanted to know about him? She remembered he appealed to the female demographic aged 14 - 29. She needed to focus on his romantic interests, his dating profile, and the cute stuff. To pull in other reading groups she knew his game store, The Black Clown, was a favorite spot in downtown Domino. For gamer and otaku alike. He had created Dungeon Dice Monsters and was a well respected duelist, too. "I'd like to know more about Dungeon Dice Monsters."

(Undercover)

He had been waiting for her.

He sat at the center of the head table on stage. Perched at his untouched dinner plate of filet mignon, foie gras, and truffle shavings, he saw the ghostly wisp of silver hair and pale visage. She wasn't a live firework bursting through the crowd like Sora, but she mesmerized his attentions as she entered late for the final dinner before pull in. Everyone about were talking amongst themselves, their words a lullaby of ambient white noise. She wore a conservative, but flattering, blue pinafore with her hair up in an amateur styled, but nice, chignon.

He wished she'd wear contacts. She had large silver frames that took away from her soulful blue eyes. As she approached closer, he could tell that she had a pretty face. Her expression was full with a sharpness of power and danger. While he studied the reporter further, he started focusing on her flaws. He noticed how she would casually glance down as though in guilt or shame. Her fashion tastes were low budget and too librarian. She also just looked exhausted and defeated. It wasn't obvious, but he noticed the slump in her shoulder, the lack of any good feelings on her mouth, and the vacant stare she naturally held. It was as though the world had beaten her down. It made all her pretty features unattractive and glum.

From what little he knew of her he had seen her as persistent and fearless. She had stood her ground and conducted her interviews professionally, easily, and quickly. He had been surprised with how little she had spoke. She was a listener. Had a biting tongue, when appropriate. He had been impressed. She wasn't bad, for a tabloid reporter.

But that was one of the top reasons he didn't care for her. She was one of _them_. The paparazzi drove him insane. If he could eliminate one annoyance in his life, he'd have a hard time deciding between Jonouchi or the gossip columnists. He didn't keep his hatred for them a secret. The media often kept a safe distance from him. Mokuba had insisted on coming to all PR and media related meetings to protect the reporters (and Kaiba Corp.'s image) from experiencing any dramatic problems.

And that was why Mokuba sat between him and her. She arrived to her seat, her cameraman looking at her with an awestruck puppy dog grin. She bowed to both brothers, all smiles and pretty gestures. It reminded him of a housewife. It felt forced and fake.

He acknowledged her and looked back at the crowd. Mokuba and she whispered amongst each other in hushed tones. Not knowing what they were speaking about he began growing impatient. He needed her to consent to a search of her room as his security team still hadn't been able to track down Sora. Also, she was supposed to be close friends with the missing woman. Sora said she'd be there, for dinner. Yet he still couldn't see her.

"It's your first time joining us, Ms. Adachi," Kaiba interrupted the giggling schoolkids, throwing the pair a cool stare. "I'm sorry to hear of your hard time finding your sea legs."

She blushed but smiled bashfully. "It's a shame that I just got used to being at sea and we're returning to land tomorrow."

"I'm sure you'll have an easier time now." Kaiba took his glass of wine, holding it out to her. "But being back on stable land will help you with your bearings as you keep up with all the duels these next few days."

She accepted his little toast, reaching her wine glass over Mokuba's plate (which he noted, showing her lack of experience in dinner etiquette) and clinked crystal on crystal. Mokuba had also snuck from below, laughing out, "To Hawaii! Yuriko, have you ever watched Jurassic Park?"

"Yes."

"Remember that scene where the helicopter lands into the park for the first time? And with all that epic music? That took place in Hawaii!"

"Really?" He didn't like how she listened to Mokuba, completely ignoring him. A strange sense of jealousy and apprehension coursed through his veins. He was included in the conversation but it was clearly about things he cared little about. He shot Mokuba a glance, finding his brother completely enthralled with talking to her.

"Yes, in Kauai. You want to go?" Mokuba wasn't helping, either. He was all smiles and chomping on his escargot and crab. It made him feel territorial and concerned. She wasn't be trusted. And he didn't like how comfortable Mokuba seemed with her. It worried him.

"If we have time, I'd love to."

Kaiba cleared his throat. Both speakers were silent. "Have you seen Sora Freud since the first night at sea, Ms. Adachi?"

She seemed taken aback. "Only in passing. I've been busy interviewing the passengers and she's told me she's busy. I... I saw her earlier today. She said she was going to make dinner. You haven't seen her yet?"

She was lying. He could clearly see it on her face. He had a strong desire to lash out. He could slam his fists on the table. He could jump to his feet and have security take her away. But he was older. He had matured and calmed down since his earlier years. But his patience was running out. She was hiding something. Sora was hiding something. Even his brother was hiding things from him. It took so much restraint for him to give her a cold look and nothing more.

"My security haven't been successful at finding her. For concerns of her safety I'm going to insist on searching your cabin."

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "I think you're overreacting. There's no need to go to such lengths. If you must know, she's been staying with me. I'll go get her." Yuriko rose from the table only to have security arrive. She looked around, studying the closing in guards around her.

Kaiba had them prepare to keep Yuriko at the dining hall while he and Roland went to inspect her room. She looked around with her lower lip biting frown. "I'm afraid we can't afford to waste any more time." Roland seemed to appear from the shadows, standing in attention behind him.

Yuriko seemed to be sweating while she looked around at the many sunglass wearing suits that guarded every exit. She threw a hateful look at him, one that made her look half scary-half cute. If he was in a better mood, he'd laugh.

Everyone's cabins had been searched except for Yuriko's. She was the only person who seemed to be everywhere but nowhere whenever he needed her for a quick request of consent to search. The consent was required, it was more of a courtesy. He'd have every authority to go through everyone's personal spaces and possessions but that wasn't something he'd like to pull on a woman whose profession it was to destroy public image or wave sensationalism around like an inconsiderate vacationer waving his beach towel over the sand.

This was perhaps the least damaging had waited enough. He had been polite and patient all day. He didn't interrupt her in the middle of an interview with Ryuji Otogi or while she was on the phone directed to Japan earlier today. He wanted to justify this to her but couldn't find the right way to express it. She glared at him in a way he knew he'd regret after getting an angry phone call from his PR director. But he'd worry about that later.

This was the closest thing to him asking nicely. He didn't want to cause a scene. But already nearby voices had quieted down. All eyes in the room were watching the head table.

"Please, Ms. Adachi. Have a seat." Kaiba smiled down at her, victorious and mean. "If you would like, you may accompany us to observe and ensure we don't molest your belongings. But we will see the inside of your cabin now."


	16. The Deal

_This is it. It's over._

She hadn't expected this. Maybe she should have seen it coming. Kaiba was always known for his propensity to obsess. His still active vendetta with Yugi Mutuo should have been enough warning for her.

As she saw the drop of the guillotine blade come for her neck she had flashes of regret and the feeling that she could have prevented all of this. She should have made more appearances of Sora. She shouldn't have come to the dinner as Yuriko. She should have tried to calm down Seto Kaiba about the state she was in.

 _Why didn't I do any of those things?_ She felt powerless and the guilt and sense of karma made it feel like she was chewing clay. She was at her most self destructive these days. This was the universe's retribution. A part of her felt relieved, knowing that she wouldn't have to lie anymore. Maybe a part of her wanted to get caught. Her eyelids were half closed as she let her shoulders slump in accepted defeat.

"Uh, Seto," Mokuba grabbed his brother's arm standing up quickly. "Sora's right over there!"

The entire banquet turned to the scene. Short black hair fluttered in a rush past the guards with pale skin and red evening gown dragging its train; everyone gasped and pointed. The flash of Takaeda's camera and the eager rise of everyone's voices at the spectacle added to the confusion.

Yuriko felt separated from reality as she saw her. _It can't be._ She didn't understand. She had just seen her, too. Not her face and not that close, but it had looked like someone that could have been Sora Freud. It was like she saw a reflection of the back of her wig. _But that's impossible..._

The older Kaiba brother stepped from the table, turning to chase after her. "If you lose her again, I promise you'll all be fired. And you'll have to find your own way back to Japan." Kaiba and the parade of three piece suits all made chase.

Yuriko was dumbstruck, watching the men all rush out of the great room. Leather soled shoes on polished wooden floors echoed over the growing roar of the dinner guests. She turned to Takaeda. "Are you getting all those pictures?" Her body was floating in a sea of relief at her luck. She couldn't believe how she had missed that bullet. But another hurricane of questions came to sink her heart. What was going on?

"I am, Ms. Adachi." He had been trigger fingering the shutter, not shy of his blinding flash and the rapid clicks of his tool.

She turned to stare at Mokuba, who looked as relieved as she felt. He caught her glance and shot her a smug grin. His violet eyes glittered into crescent moons. "I always have a backup for situations like these," he whispered breathless. "You can thank me later."

She blinked, not fully registering what he meant. "What, you have another Sora on standby or something?"

Mokuba laughed, tugging at his tie and running his hands through his slicked back hair. "I decided to pay for insurance. Seto's been getting a little high strung. I figured he'd pull something like this tonight. Maybe if Sora hadn't just disappeared on him he wouldn't have gotten this desperate." He changed to a disapproving and accusatory glower. "What gives? You said Sora would be here tonight?"

Yuriko swallowed the icy lumps in her throat as looked around. She struggled to meet her friend's eyes. People were still clearly throwing sneak peaks at her and the younger Kaiba, the whispers and the confusion still palpable. She felt like she was being sucked into a vacuum of tension. Takaeda was cleaning his lens while looking down but it was obvious he was trying to listen in. "I'm sorry, Mokuba." She turned and left the table, rushing out of the room to her cabin. Sora needed to make an appearance now. It wasn't just about her feelings of guilt at risk. Mokuba, too, was deceiving his brother. Because of her. If Seto Kaiba ever found out about Mokuba's involvement, she feared a divide would happen between the two. _I need to make sure he never knows he was involved._ Finding out this way would only cause more pain. And despite how hot a story that would make, it was something she'd never forgive herself for creating.

"Ms. Adachi!" Takaeda had chased after her, camera held forward as he awkwardly tried to keep pace with her. "Shouldn't we follow Seto Kaiba?"

"Takaeda, go do that. Take as many pictures as you can and fill me in later. I need to find someone."

"Who, Sora? Why? She went the other way!" Takaeda's red cheeks and wheezy breath was getting more and more strained as she sprinted through passageways and climbed stairs.

"This will be better. Seto Kaiba will be in no shape to answer questions. But Sora Freud is always. Go, take pictures of the scene. I'm going around the ship and heading her off. I'll be there soon. Please!" She snapped, stopping to turn and point for him to leave.

He narrowed his eyes disapprovingly, turning to jog awkwardly away. _Great. He hates me too, now_. She felt the rise of a headache form, but she didn't have time to sulk. She continued her sprint to her cabin, eager to put on all the evidence that would have damned her had Kaiba successfully gotten access to her cabin. She had thought he wouldn't dare try to go through her things. She never even fathomed the idea that the situation would call for it. But now she needed to keep her wigs, extravagant clothes, and makeup somewhere Kaiba would never stumble across. That meant Mokuba's quarters were off limits, too. She'd have to figure it out later.

Despite the practice she had, applying her full disguise took time. The fastest she could go was thirty minutes, and that was with minimal contouring. Eyelashes glued on, green irises staring back in bloodshot fury, and the wig limp and running straight down to her jawline, she saw her reflection a desperate and angry girl with little to lose.

She cursed herself when she almost walked out of the cabin in the same dress she had worn at the banquet. Yuriko's light blue church girl dress wasn't Sora. But she had to carefully maneuver out of it and put on a more appropriate outfit without ruining all the rushed effort she had placed on her face.

Red. The decoy had worn red. She felt her stomach drop as she tore her suitcases apart for something red. She felt triumph as she pulled out the one red dress she had, nothing like the original but it was the best she had. She prayed he'd not notice the discrepancy. She slipped into it, trying to pull the zipper up while she tripped into new heels and fell out the door to the outside.

She collided with a strong warm mass that made her see stars and added an extra kick to her annoying headache. She looked up into the face of Seto Kaiba, glaring down at her. He had grabbed her wrists as soon as she landed face first into his chest, his hair disheveled and his cheeks pink from exertion. A drop of sweat was running down his cheek.

"Where have you been?" He tightened his grip on her bony wrists while looking over her head at the explosion of clothes in the room. "Have you been staying in here the entire time?"

She bit her lip and let out a hiss. "You're hurting me. Let me go!"

He loosened his grip but didn't fully release as she tried to pull away from him. He was close to her. Too close. He took another step against her as she tried to shrink back. "I won't. Not until you answer my questions. And make me confident that you'll not going to disappear like that again." He looked down at her with a frown that shadowed his frustration and worry. "I thought you might have jumped overboard. Security couldn't find you. You hadn't been seen at any meals. Have you been eating?"

She tried to wrench her wrists free, her growing anxiety starting to suffocate her. "I have. Let. Me. Go. I promise I won't run away." She started getting teary eyed. "Please, you're freaking me out."

Kaiba's vice-like hands popped open and she rubbed at her sore joints while keeping all the insults and strings of verbal assaults she had piling up in her cerebellum behind her lips. "Thanks."

Kaiba held his arm out to block any potential escape, gesturing for her to enter Yuriko's cabin. "Let's talk."

She looked at the mess and laughed. All the potential damning evidence that she had been worried about was now physically on her. _Sure, I bet your pristine habits will love this relaxing room, Kaiba._ Besides the copious makeup that took all the bathroom sink real estate, there was little proof of one girl and two characters living in that space. But she'd make it work. After all, she had gotten good at lying to him. "Fine. I won't excuse the mess, though. You should have called ahead." She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up, trying her best to appear proud and arrogant.

Kaiba looked up, studying a bra that had somehow been lodged in an air duct. "I'm sure your home cleaning lady is paid well."

"I'm a generous tipper." Sora entered and had a seat on the unmade bed, pushing aside a heap of wrinkled clothes. "Poor Yuriko, she gave up trying to keep this place in order."

"Stealing aboard my ship, holing up with a tabloid reporter, and insubordination to the captain. You're lucky you haven't been kicked off yet." She noticed he kept throwing glances around, incapable of focusing on just her at that moment. He seemed fascinated by the chaos, as though he was analyzing every makeup brush on the floor or perfume bottle on the nightstand. "Seriously, how can you live like this?"

 _Between this mess or pissing you off, I'd take double the clutter._ Sora cleared her throat and folded her arms, wanting to get the interrogation over with. "You said you wanted me to answer your questions? Well shoot."

Kaiba threw a glance at her and then turned to poke his head in the bathroom. Makeup smudges on the mirror, pantyhose draped over the shower head, she saw Kaiba smirk briefly at the additional mess. "So Adachi is keeping you hidden from me. I wonder why?"

"Wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out." She rolled her eyes and tried to slow down her fast paced heartbeat. "You're kind of overbearing. I like sleeping with the doors closed."

"I was being a gentleman. I should have insisted we slept in the same bed together."

She threw the nearest projectile at him. It was a paperback book. Her paperback book. _Thus Spoke, Zarathustra._ He caught it smoothly, smoothing the bent pages and studying the cover. He looked at her with an impressed snicker. He had a gentler smile on his lips. "Some light reading?"

"Yes." She looked away, his suddenly softer expressions too guilt-inducing for her to take. "Lots of reading. It's been a long... three days?"

"Yes. Three days of no sight of you. No word, no news. After you told me that bastard was back and harassing you and then disappearing on me, didn't it occur to you that I thought you were in trouble?" She never saw him look as vulnerable or haggard before. Locks of brown hair fell over his eyes that broke through with bright blue clarity. And the regret began to pile on. More guilt-boulders on her metaphorical camel's back that had already pancaked. _Just keep 'em piling, boys._

"We're on a ship in the middle of the Pacific. I'm probably safest here. You're overreacting."

He blinked and let out a cruel laugh. "Sometimes I wonder if you're just insane or an idiot. I'm not overreacting. I have every reason to be concerned. As should you. Stop playing around with danger."

"I'm well aware of the danger. And I can handle it myself."

"You and I both know that's not true. Do you remember anything about three days ago?" A shadow fell over his face. Concern pulled down his lips. "You're not well. Let me help you."

Her face grew warmer as he continued his onslaught. _He has a point,_ she conceded. But she wasn't sure what was more dangerous: letting Sora, and thus her secret, get closer to Kaiba or take her chances dealing with _him_ again. She already knew what she'd rather do. And it was the selfish choice.

"Fine. Help me." She softly looked up at him, wanting to hold onto some defiance but begrudgingly letting it slip past her fingers like sand.

His trademark smirk returned. He turned his head slightly. "Hm? Come again? A little louder."

She growled, jumping to her feet and throwing another object at him. This time, it was one of those perfume bottles. He caught it, just before it hit the wall. Despite the violence, he was amused. "Come on, princess. Say it."

Bared teeth she roared, "Help me!" She slapped her palms against her eyelids in agonizing disgust. "You happy?" She threw her arms up and let out noises of absolute discomfort. She hated begging. And she hated that satisfied sneer even more. She wished she could scratch it off his stupid face.

He was trembling with laughter as he tossed back her perfume bottle. It landed on her lap with an aching thud. "Yes. Very." He took a step closer to her, pushing her laundry to the floor, and sat beside her. She smelled the cinnamon and musk, like a honey bee attracted to nectar. He took her hand in his and touched her cheek gently. "You need to be more communicative. I need to know where you are at all times. I need you to be honest with me. I promised I'll keep you safe. But I need your full cooperation. Understand?"

He touched her like he knew her in ways she never agreed to. She wanted to turn and bite the skin on his hand while at the same time cry and kiss his palm. She chose to do neither. She sat like an animatronic dummy, only nodding her head briefly to acknowledge his question. Her cheek was buzzing from his touch. His hands were surprisingly callused. She wondered what he did with his hands that made those fingertips so tough. _Maybe just from typing. He's just that much of a workaholic he has keyboard calluses._

"I'll take text updates. I think you'll prefer that method instead of having one of my guards shadow you at all times."

She threw a dirty look at him. "Wow, that was by far the smoothest pick up line I've ever heard. Here, let me get you my number. Right. Now." She let the sarcasm drip down her lips like drool as she playfully nipped at his hand. It didn't give the desired affect of making him withdraw out of shock or disgust. He only curved his fingers cupping her face tighter, as though he was into it. She bared her teeth in a snarl that intimidated him as well as a feral cat would.

"Another option would be having you kept in the brig. It would be for your own good, seeing as how... difficult you can be." He looked partially maniacal, his smile wide enough for her to see his canines. She did everything she could not to slink back at the idea but she couldn't help but flinch.

"No. Not that. Don't lock me up. Please."

He frowned, backpedaling. "I'm sorry. I won't. I was joking."

"Yeah. I just don't have a sense of humor with being held against my will for long periods of time." She took his hand and pulled it off of her. "But I'll give you my number." She took her phone out of the inside of her bra, ignoring his raised eyebrow. "What's yours?"

(Undercover)

Yuriko and Takaeda sat in their VIP seats overlooking the duel arena. It was laid out like a coliseum, built into the dried volcanic crater. One side was a wall of black porous rock. The other was a spectacle of semi-underwater proportions. A great glass barrier protected the arena from flooding in, providing plenty of aquarium views with sea turtles lazily looking into the man-made crater. Seaweed drifted with the currents of the ocean. They had ported at one of the cays off the big island where black pebbled beaches and jagged cliffs stole her breath away.

Yuriko admitted she was impressed. This arena was indeed one of the most incredible creations she had ever seen a Duel Monsters match take place. _Kaiba Corp. outdid itself for its first set of duels._

The audience screamed and roared. Modern day gladiators swung their duel disks and wielded their trading cards with as much passion as a man fighting to the death for the right to live. They consisted mostly of Hawaiian Americans and Japanese who could afford the tickets to witness the spectacle. All had come for a show. And a show was indeed happening. Below, Katsuya Jonouchi was dueling against "Bandit" Keith Howard, both celebrated contestants in many historical tournaments. The two were ants compared to the great monster holograms that were projected to fight in violent chaos.

Scribbling notes and brainstorming for the post-game interview, Yuriko kept chewing her lower lip while trying to keep her mind focused. She kept staring at her loopy handwriting while trying to keep her mind off of a certain brown haired menace that was the reason her cell phone kept vibrating against her hip.

Hissing to herself like a mutinous snake she pulled out her phone and stared at the newest question.

 _Where are you?_

She wanted to moan and throw her hands up in the air. This was the fifth time he asked that. He was worse than Ian. She was at wits end. She couldn't work like this. Every time she tried to write down one of Katsuya's terrible comebacks or Keith's cringe drawing puns she'd start getting another stream of text messages she was expected to reply to promptly. A light bulb illuminated above her head and she decided to hell with classiness. She wanted the overbearing maniac off her back. She quickly swiped, ' _Well... I WAS watching the tournament but I'm now on the toilet. Taking the biggest dump of my life. Sorry._ ' And put her phone away with a satisfied grin on her face. She prayed the shock would be enough to give her just five minutes of peace.

The vibration returned, this time it with an angrier fervor. It seemed it was burning a hole in her pocket with how much activity her phone was going through. She knew it had to be her imagination. She pulled it out and stared at the words that glowed up at her.

 _You're lying. Security hasn't seen you enter or leave any restrooms all day. Stop playing games._

She exhaled heavily through her nose like a hostile rhino, her mind bouncing back and forth from Jonouchi running his mouth to the paranoia of Seto Kaiba finding her out. Who knew trying to stay one step ahead of the CEO would be this annoying and hard? _Well... anyone who knows of him_ , Yuriko scolded herself. She really shot herself in the foot, giving him her number. She should have given him a fake one. She should have provided a counter offer that would have given her more freedom. She should have figured a way out of this mess. Her chest was a melting pot of different feelings and conflicting emotions. She ignored the flutter in her chest every time her phone dinged and shook against her flesh. It was nerves, not excitement. His constant pining and badgering her was obnoxious, not sweet. Right?

She kept reminding herself that this behavior wasn't acceptable, if it had been anyone else. The feelings were one minute warm and fuzzy. She kept reminding herself this wasn't okay and mentally hit herself with a bucket of ice water.

" _I'm sorry. I won't. I'm sorry._ " She tried to shove his voice out of her memory. She desperately wanted to erase the image of his concerned eyes. His perfectly symmetrical face watching her with attention and care. Her efforts to erase the nostalgia of his warm dry palm on her cheek hummed like an electrical current. And every time she read one of his messages was like a shot of burning whiskey down her throat. Lava in her heart.

"Ms. Adachi, maybe you should silence your phone?" Takaeda kept sending her sideways glances as his glasses slipped down his nose. He had taken so many pictures of the two players that he was in the process of replacing film. He was old school with his analog cameras and detachable flashes.

"I wish I could, Takaeda. Believe me," Yuriko sighed and quickly swiped more on her phone. "But unfortunately, this person is someone I can't say no to."

"Is it Mr. Marukai?"

"No, it's Seto Kaiba." She figured she might as well tell him, just to shut him up. She quickly added, "He wants to make sure that we don't cast his tournament in a bad light and has asked me to report to him whenever I want to cover anything out of the ordinary or particularly outrageous."

"Uh, but all we do is cover the outrageous. You have every right to say no." Takaeda fidgeted and blushed, looking down while mumbling, "He has no right to demand that of you."

Yuriko laughed, suddenly taking a liking to her photographer. It was nice to hear the voice of reason. He looked like a lost puppy, not knowing what to make of her giggles. "Thanks, Takaeda. I wish it was that easy, though."

He looked up and smiled gently. "That man is a bully. If he hurts you, let me know."

Yuriko wanted to laugh again but chose not to, finding his protectiveness endearing, but unlikely. "I will. Thanks for looking after me, Takaeda." She went back to her phone, swiping a quick and curt, ' _You got me. I promise, I'm watching the duel. Bandit Keith and Katsuya are going at it. Lifepoints 2890 against 1000. Looks like Katsuya is going to lose this round. I bet that makes you happy.'_ She sighed and leaned back into her seat, just in time to watch Katsuya place more magic cards face down. Though she was not in league with these players she was incredulous with how poorly Jonouchi was playing. _He must be off his game._ He was supposed to be a very skilled duelist, but the fluffy yellow haired yankee looked as flustered as he sounded. She noted his choice in monsters and strategy while finding herself a little bored. These games could drag on. She preferred playing instead of watching.

She turned to gaze over at the glass walls of the nearest side of the arena. Rails were placed behind the shatterproof windows, an extra precaution the arena had taken because of the dense population that would frequent the coliseum. They were over an inactive volcano, the black crater a rugged and angry harshness that was broken apart with breaking waves of blue and sea foam white. Seagulls flew overhead while the rushing ocean helped keep the roar of the crowd from becoming too unpleasant to hear. It was a healthy balance of white noise and social uproar.

She noticed a bushy haired shirtless man standing with his back toward the duelists. He was standing on top of the glass structure with tanned skin, scarred legs, and a harpoon on his hand. Yuriko squinted her eyes in the bright sunlight to make out the figure, almost in disbelief. _How come security hasn't gotten that guy yet?_ She nudged Takaeda and silently pointed at the peculiar wild man. The clicking of camera capturing the moment broke through the cheers of the crowd and the whooshing of the beach. _What is he looking at?_ She didn't know what to make of the guy. He stood there while the water crashed over the glass violently.

And a chill crawled up her spine. _The glass. It's cracking._

The tide had come in, and fast. She began to wonder whether or not it had been intentional to have a below sea level arena be this vulnerable to crashing twenty foot waves. It was a windy day. The water was wild and angry. And there was no denying it. Like jagged spider webs, the glass had its cracks spread like angry claws spreading upward across the thick glass.

Yuriko jumped to her feet and pointed at the man. "Hey! Get down from there! The glass is going to break!" He didn't seem to hear her. She sprinted toward him, hoping he'd turn around to face her as she kept running toward the reckless person. "Get off of that!"

Before she reached him he leaped off the glass panel and dived head first as another wave broke into the wall, causing the damage to spread. He disappeared, harpoon and all, into the water. Through branches of breaks she saw the bubbles and kicks of the harpoon-head swimming away. As the water pushed against the barrier she winced as the cracks continued to spread. She turned at the rest of the arena, trying to pick out a sunglasses wearing suit in the crowd. The glass was about to break. They needed to evacuate.


End file.
